


what light tastes like

by chxrrybomb



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Alcohol Addiction, F/F, Fake Dating, Lesbian AU, low key slowburn, minor famelet bc i love them, or something like that, overcoming addiction, pearl makes an appearance, strangers to fake girlfriends to friends to lovers, they both act so dumb lol, trixie is soft af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chxrrybomb/pseuds/chxrrybomb
Summary: when katya’s parents mistake trixie for her girlfriend, there’s only one feasible solution.fake it ‘til they make it
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is mostly silly, but also addresses a serious topic (addiction, specifically, alcohol addiction). i went the route of alcohol over drugs because that’s what i have experience with. but! as heavy as that sounds, the story is very lighthearted and sweet overall, and i hope you like it!! big thank you to liz for helping me with some beta-ing and for cheering me on every step of the way 🍅
> 
> tw for discussion of alcohol addiction, as well as a brief and vague mention of past abuse in chapter one
> 
> title from _taste_ by sleeping at last

_ “I am alive, I am awake _

_ I am aware of what light tastes like _

_ The curtains drawn, the table set _

_ I want to be, I want to be at my best” _

“Mom, I told you. I’m single and not exactly looking to mingle. There’s a lot going on, and I need to focus on school. Plus, I don’t think I’m in the best place to start dating.” 

Katya’s mom sighs, beyond exasperated, and Katya can hear her inner dialogue now: _I just want you to be happy, Katenka. You deserve a lovely wife. You know we support you. We want the best for you. Your father and I got married when we were only a year older than you are now_.

“Look, the minute I meet someone, I’ll let you know. Okay, mama?”

“Okay,” she finally agrees.

“I promise,” Katya says.

_Famous last words._

.

.

.

Katya is trying her hardest to get some homework finished at the on campus coffee shop. Midterms are rapidly approaching, and she needs to nail every single one of them. If she can’t please her parents with the prospect of marriage, straight A’s will have to do. The only problem is that the place is loud and _crowded_ , crawling with exhausted students living on caffeine and desperation. Katya was fortunate to snag a small table in the corner before the swarm hit—one of those small round ones that’s part of the booth lining the wall but has a chair on the other side.

Someone has already stolen the chair.

But whatever, Katya didn’t need it.

She puts in her headphones, attempting to block out the noise that is a mixture of club meetings, sororities, people catching up between classes, and the odd one out like her—drinking coffee and selling their soul to academia. It’s mostly effective, and before long, she finds herself on a roll, spitting words out for the paper she’s been putting off for weeks. It’s due in two days, but all the doubts she’d had this morning are disappearing.

According to the outline she’d forced herself to make when the paper was assigned two weeks ago, Katya only has one more major point to address before she writes a conclusion and starts editing. If anything, she has the time to do it tomorrow, but as long as she’s kicking this paper’s ass right now, she may as well continue right here in this coffee shop.

The end is almost in full sight when she notices someone standing at the side of her table where the chair used to be. Hesitating, Katya slowly pulls one earbud from her ear before looking up. The sight before her nearly has her on the floor. 

The person in front of her is another student. She looks like the kind of girl that wouldn’t approach Katya in any given situation—long legs, thick blonde hair, big pink lips, and a body that can be described as nothing other than _bodacious_ —but clearly Katya’s flash judgement is wrong because here she stands, waiting on Katya to say something, her big brown eyes attentive and questioning.

“Um, hi?” Katya mutters, and she mentally kicks herself for sounding like a huge dumbass.

“Hello,” the girl says, and _fuck_ , Katya thinks, even her voice is perfect. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there are no open seats in here, and I really need the wifi, would it be okay if I shared this table with you? You can say no,” she assures. “There might be an open space outside,” she adds, and the two of them look towards the window. It’s pouring. “Oh. Well,” the girl says, “I can go to the library, unless—”

Katya cuts her off, “No, it’s okay,” she quickly assures her before looking around almost helplessly, The chair is gone, which really renders the table almost useless for two people, but realistically, there’s enough room for two people to sit on the booth and use the table. If they’re really _really_ close that is. 

Katya scoots against the wall, holding her breath as the blonde sits next to her, her thick thigh pressing against Katya’s. She hopes she can’t feel how tense she is, but in case she can, she makes a point to force her muscles to relax, at least a little bit.

“Thanks,” the girl smiles at her. They are _incredibly_ close. Closer than Katya ever sits next to her friends even at movie nights, but the look in those deep brown eyes erases any and all complaints, as does the warmth where their legs are touching. Katya will absolutely take becoming a sweaty, unproductive gay mess if it means sitting next to this beauty. “I’m Trixie, by the way,” she introduces as she pulls out her laptop, which just barely has enough room next to Katya’s.

“Katya,” she says back. She considers holding out her hand to shake Trixie’s, but she doesn’t trust herself to not be shaking as she does so, and anyway, the angle would be awkward. “What are you working on?” she asks, mostly out of polite obligation, but also so to reign in her curiosity so she won’t be taking sneaky peeks at a stanger’s computer. 

“Oh, it’s this dumb paper that’s due tonight. It’s one of those generic _recap what you learned in class in less than two thousand words but make it critical_ assignments.” She sighs, clearly over it. “It’s for a gen ed I’ve been avoiding, but this semester it was inevitable.” Katya hums. “What about you?”

“Oh, um.” Katya pauses, trying to think of the best way to sum it all up. “Well. It’s for my Russian history class.” At that, Trixie glances at the screen, double taking when she sees that Katya is literally typing in Russian. Her jaw drops. Obviously having expected to see what she was working on in _English_ , any concerns Trixie might have had about being nosy go right out the window and she leans in to get a closer look.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Katya laughs, trying to retain some semblance of modesty despite having obviously impressed the pretty girl she met only five minutes ago.

“You’re writing it in Russian,” Trixie asks, more of a statement, the astonishment evident in her voice.

“I am,” Katya nods. She’s tempted to just start responding to Trixie in Russian to floor her even more, but she doesn’t want to show off any more than she already is. But then Trixie doesn’t say anything, only gaping at Katya, eyes wide, and then, Katya can’t resist. “That was the assignment,” she explains, _in Russian_ , continuing when she sees those brown eyes widen. “It’s about the current political climate and how history reflects certain patterns we see today.” She can feel Trixie shift in her spot against her leg, and Katya feels accomplished. 

“I don’t have a clue what you just said. Did you just explain your paper or tell me your deepest darkest secret?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Katya says, feeling unusually fueled by a bravery within her that she isn’t used to. She thinks Trixie’s eyes darken, but it’s probably only her imagination. “But actually, I just gave you some serious Russian secrets that might save your life in a life or death situation _or_ help you win a game of bar trivia. Either/or.”

At that Trixie screams, her hand clutching onto Katya for support as she laughs. Katya is obviously pleased with herself, both for causing such a reaction as well as not completely fucking this whole situation up yet, but the development is soon going to leave Katya in an imminent state of gay panic. Trixie isn’t just holding her for support, she’s gripping her _thigh_. She’s afraid to move, but she can’t help the way she instinctively clenches her legs together. If Trixie notices, she’s too busy laughing to say anything.

“I can barely handle English,” Trixie finally comments as she catches her breath again. “Really, this paper is a lost cause,” she says, gesturing at her laptop. 

Katya smies. “I’m sure it’s going to turn out great.”

“Thanks,” Trixie says, and Katya can just barely make out the faint hints of a blush under her makeup. “And you know, thanks again for sharing your table with me.” Her leg is warm against Katya’s, and she knows for sure, right then, she won’t be able to get any more work done.

At first she thinks it’s okay. She already knows Trixie can’t read Russian, so even if she just types random characters, would she really know? The short answer, Katya finds out only minutes of trying to just do that, is yes. The aggressive red lines indicating all the words she typed that aren’t words at all are an obvious giveaway. She deletes them all before Trixie can see.

Her eyes shift to the blonde’s laptop next to her. She doesn’t read anything, but she sees enough to know that Trixie doesn’t appear to be having the same struggle as Katya. Her words spill out with an ease Katya thinks is absolutely unachievable right now.

Taking a deep breath, she decides it’s time for a coffee refill. She offers to get Trixie something, and the blonde grins as she graciously accepts, telling Katya she would _love_ a Chai tea latte and she’ll pay her back. Katya just waves her hand, headed to the counter where fortunately, there isn’t a long line. 

Katya doesn’t head back to the table until she has both drinks, and as she approaches, Trixie is looking up at her. When they make eye contact, Trixie points at Katya’s computer, and Katya frowns. Did it die on her? Did it finally develop a mind of its own and decide to expose Katya for every raunchy google search she’s ever made? When she finally has eyes on the screen, she sees she’s receiving a video call from her parents. _Go figure._ And without thinking, she accepts the call before she’s gotten settled back at the table.

Her headphones are still plugged in, so anything they’re saying is silent to the rest of the world (but most importantly, Trixie). Katya passes the blonde her latte before taking her seat once again, putting the left earbud in, so she can hear her parents, but also will be able to hear Trixie if she says something next to her.

To Katya’s horror, she immediately comes to find out that her parents are _gushing_ over Trixie, who just happens to be in the frame of the video. At first they’re just muttering to each other in Russian, but when they realize that Katya can finally hear them, they address her in English. “Katenka, why didn’t you _tell us_ you finally found a girlfriend?!” She’s practically squealing with joy, and Katya instinctively turns the volume on her laptop down, even though she logically _knows_ Trixie can’t hear them.

“I’m proud of you,” her father adds. “She’s a real beauty! And she looks like she’s working very hard.”

Katya doesn’t even know _what_ to say. First of all, anything she says will presumably be heard by Trixie, whose big pink headphones are still hanging around her neck, and second, her mom’s smile is so wide and so _happy_. Katya can’t bear to break the bad news that she’s still desperately single and alone.

“Um, hello to you too,” she finally says, and is immediately swarmed with a flurry of questions. _What’s her name? Did you meet her in a class? Does she know Russian? What’s she studying? So you bought her a coffee? You’re so sweet. Aren’t you going to introduce us to her?_ And it becomes clear very quickly that Katya is not going to get away with dismissing the topic. That doesn’t mean she won’t try. “Do we have to talk about this right now?” she asks them. “Obviously, things are very busy over here.”

“It will only take a few moments to introduce us,” her mom says, waving on the screen trying to get Trixie’s attention on her own. Katya hopes it doesn’t work.

Naturally, she just about dies when Trixie’s typing suddenly comes to a full stop. She looks at her out of the corner of her eye, swallowing hard when she sees Trixie waving back. She is obviously just being nice and has no intention of saying anything or being _introduced_ , but a return wave only makes Katya’s parents more manic. They even start talking to Trixie, unaware that she can’t hear them.

“Give me a second,” she tells her parents. “I’m not hanging up, okay? Just…” she hits the mute button, but she has to admit, she was tempted to hang up altogether. She tilts the screen down so she and Trixie are both out of sight, and then the thought hits her all at once. _What the fuck am I supposed to do_ . “Um,” she says out loud, and Trixie looks at her, obviously aware that _something_ is happening.

“Sorry,” she starts, sounding a little guilty. “I saw her waving and it seemed directed at me, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I just—” Katya shakes her head, dismissing the apology. The last thing she wants is for Trixie to feel guilty for being a good person.

“Don’t be sorry, okay? It _was_ directed at you. My mom is…a little insane. I love her, but she’s totally batshit sometimes,” Katya laughs, and Trixie chuckles nervously with her. 

“Are they still…?”

“Oh, yeah. They are.” Katya nods, rapidly trying to think through a scenario where she doesn’t have to do _any of this_ before the words leave her mouth. “They think you’re my girlfriend, and they want to meet you,” Katya blurts out, getting the truth out there as soon as possible. 

She watches Trixie’s face as the information sinks in. She looks shocked, mostly, her jaw slack as she processes what Katya just said, her eyes flickering around the coffee shop to her computer to her lap before finally she looks at Katya, a look on her face so unreadable that Katya isn’t sure if she’s about to insult Katya’s sexuality, kiss her right then and there, or just get up and walk away.

After a moment, she just says, “You like girls?” Katya nods, starting to get worried. “And your parents aren’t _just okay_ with it, but _happy_ about it?” Katya nods again. “Wow,” Trixie says. “I love them already. Let’s do this.” And with that, she reaches for Katya’s other earbud (her fingers moving dangerously close to Katya’s chest) before putting it in her ear, leaning closer to Katya in the process and lifting the screen back up, unmuting the conversation.

Katya hardly has time to understand what’s happening before Trixie is introducing herself to Katya’s parents as _the best girlfriend she’s ever going to get_ and telling them the story about how they met _right here in this very shop_ and how Katya won her over by buying her a Chai tea latte and seducing her with her Russian smarts. It makes Katya’s head spin.

The conversation doesn’t last long, but ends with Trixie blowing them kisses and wrapping an arm around Katya, assuring her parents that she’ll _take good care of their baby_ and kissing her on the cheek. Katya waves feebly at her parents before ending the call.

“They’re so nice,” Trixie says almost immediately. She moves her arm from around Katya, but does so slowly enough that her fingers trail across Katya’s back. She tries really hard not to shiver and just barely manages to succeed. “How fun was that?” she asks, but Katya thinks its rhetorical. She turns back to her assignment, even though she knows there’s no point. She’ll have to finish it tomorrow.

“Thanks, by the way,” she manages to tell Trixie a moment later. “I was half expecting you to leave when I told you what was going on.” In retrospect of course, Katya couldn't imagine the girl next to her doing anything differently. “You handled it so well.”

At that, Trixie closes her laptop and angles herself toward Katya, as much as she can in the little space they have. She takes a deep breath, almost nervous, and Katya can’t help but find it endearing. “I don’t like to talk about this, especially not to a stranger, _but,_ ” as Trixie emphasizes the _but_ , Katya feels a glowing warmth at being her exception, “my childhood was pretty shitty. I mean, my mom is great, but for a long time she was dating this total asshole. He hated me from the beginning, but finding out that I was gay made everything worse. She silently agreed with him on everything. He was abusive—to both of us—so I know now that my mom doesn’t really think like he did, not that it makes it _okay_ , but at least I understand now. Anyway. The point is, for a while, I had an unhealthy resentment toward supportive parents and the kids they loved unconditionally—the kids they would never hurt in a million years, not physically, not emotionally, not at all. But one day, I realized that resentment wasn’t doing anyone any good, least of all me, so I let it go. I got over it.” Trixie finally looks up to meet Katya’s gaze. Her eyes are wet, but not so much so that Katya expects she’s going to cry. If anything else, it just shows how strong she is. ”I love seeing parents that are so supportive. Yours truly were a pleasure to talk to, and I’m happy I could help.”

Katya is stunned. She doesn’t know what she should say or even what she wants to say. _Thank you_ of course, but that doesn’t feel like enough.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Trixie tells her, as if she sensed Katya’s inner turmoil, grabbing Katya’s hand in one of hers. She takes it back only a moment later, and Katya has to fight herself so she doesn’t reach for it again. “I know that was a lot.” 

The silence lasts only for a moment before Trixie starts packing up her stuff, going on about _thank you for sharing your table with me_ and _good luck on your Russian paper_ and _maybe I’ll see you around sometime_. She’s rushing like she’s embarrassed, and Katya still feels frozen in time.

“Wait—” she says, her hand reaching for Trixie’s arm just as she’s about to stand up. She has no idea what she wants to say, just that she doesn’t want to let this girl get away like this, slipping into nothing but a memory that she has to write off to her parents later. “Can I have your number?” She ends up blurting like an idiot, and Trixie just stares at her slack jawed, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks. “Or I can just give you mine. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so imposing.”

Trixie nods, slowly, “Um, both? Let’s do both.” 

Wordlessly, they exchange phones and input their own numbers before swapping back. They don’t even say goodbye as Trixie turns to leave, still looking stunned that Katya had asked for her number.

It isn't until she’s out of the building that Katya fully realizes: Trixie likes girls, too.

.

.

.

The next week drags by.

Katya spends more time that she’s willing to admit just staring at Trixie’s name in her phone (saved with the same princess emoji Trixie had followed it up with, she might add), and Violet has made it her undying mission to torment her about it.

“Don’t be stupid. Just text her, and ask if she wants to get dinner. You _literally_ have her number.” Violet rolls her eyes as she returns to texting god knows who on her own phone. She looks bored with Katya’s drama, but the blonde just _knows_ she’s secretly feeding on it like some kind of modern age vampire who survives off remarks from dumb lesbians and receipts from petty internet drama.

“I can’t just do that, are you kidding?” Katya says, posing all her great arguments in one fell swoop: “That’s insane.”

“No, _you’re_ insane,” Violet tells her. _So much for that_ , Katya thinks. “Why _can’t_ you just do that? Other than being scared shitless and unable to face her after masturbating to fantasies about her boobs all week."

“I didn’t—” Katya starts, but Violet cuts her off.

“I don’t want to know what you did or didn’t fantasize about, but you understand what I’m saying right? You _asked_ for her number. She _gave_ it to you. For fuck’s sake, your parents ask about her every time they call you. If you wait any longer, it’ll be weird, but _girl_. She’s probably at home right now just waiting on your text. Woman up and text her.”

With that, Violet just up and leaves without another word. The door closes behind her, and Katya collapses onto her bed, hopelessly lost.

She pulls out her phone to text Violet. _I don’t even like her like that._

Violet responds only moments later with an unnecessarily long string of eye rolling emojis.

But Katya knows she’s right, _right_? She doesn’t have feelings for Trixie, I mean, after all she hardly knows anything about her. It’s normal to constantly think about someone you never really had any real closure with, Katya tells herself.

She decides she won’t text her. She can envision the closure she needs, probably.

And if she has a sex dream about Trixie and wakes up only to put her hand down her pants and finish herself off, Trixie’s name on her lips, it’s only a normal part of the process.

Right?

.

.

.

She maintains her radio silence for weeks—through midterms and onto the later half of the semester—and if her _totally normal morning routine_ has become just that, a _routine_ , she doesn’t let herself dwell on it. 

And anyway, what good would it do? It isn’t as though Trixie is texting her either. She’s clearly not interested, and logistically, Katya figures her dreams are probably about someone who _reminds_ her of Trixie, or some enhanced dream alternate version of her. She hadn’t seen the other girl even for a second since their run in at the coffee shop, and she probably doesn’t even remember the details of her appearance well enough to replicate so vividly her in any kind of fantasy.

Of course, seeing her through the window of the campus coffee shop changes everything.

She looks _exactly_ like the girl from Katya’s dreams, down to every last detail.

So Katya runs away. Literally.

It isn’t her proudest moment, but maybe Violet had a point all those weeks ago. Maybe she _can’t_ face her. 

She’s not going to let herself think about it.

But then the next day, her parents call her out of nowhere. It’s a Saturday, so she’s wasting the afternoon away lying in bed, distracting herself with watching the most unrelatable program she could find (today it’s _The Walking Dead_ ), and she sits up when her parents call her, suddenly on high alert.

“Hello?”

“Yekaterina,” her mom croons, “guess what! We have news!” Even though she knows her parents aren’t having any more children, her brain jumps to that conclusion, and she feels herself get nervous. They sound excited, so something _good_ must be happening. This obviously isn’t a _grandma died_ kind of conversation, but also there’s no way it’s a baby. What else usually brings on this level of excitement.

“Yeah?” Katya asks, almost literally on the edge of her seat (bed) as she awaits with high key anticipation.

“Your father and I are coming to visit you! We want to get dinner with you and Trixie!”

Katya is silent long enough that her mother has to say her name again, just to make sure she’s still there. “When?” she finally asks, feeling like she might pass out. Next weekend? Tomorrow? 

“Today! We’ll be there in an hour! We hope you two are hungry,” Katya’s mom sounds so pleased, but Katya just about chokes on air. 

“An _hour_?” 

“Yes! We already picked a restaurant out. It has the best reviews for vegetarian meals, you know, for Trixie. We want to make sure she feels included. I’ll text you the details. We can’t wait to see you, and of course, to meet Trixie in person!” Her mom continues for a little bit, and Katya goes through her goodbyes out of habit, her head spinning too much to get a handle on what’s happening. _They’re on their way here, and they just now mentioned it? They’re only an hour away? Trixie’s a vegetarian?_

She feels like she needs a drink, but she can’t let herself go there or even think about going there. This is not worth relapsing over, and she knows it. She shoots a quick text to Fame: _tell me not to do it_ , and then before she can think too hard about anything else, she finds Trixie’s contact.

_Trixie. I need you._ she says, hitting send before she can lose her nerve. Even if Trixie responds immediately, they still only have an _hour_.

Fortunately, the reply buzzes in immediately. _Tell me what you need._

Katya hates talking to people on the phone unless it’s someone who’s seen her stark naked, so it’s a bold choice of her to call Trixie right then and there, but given the time restraints, what better choice does she have? The other girl picks up on the second ring and asks “What’s going on?”

Katya takes a deep breath. She already feels a little more grounded than she did a moment ago. “My parents called me just now and said they’re coming for a surprise dinner in an hour. They’re expecting you to be there.”

For a long moment, Trixie pauses, and in that long, dreadful moment, it dawns on Katya that she’s just admitting to keeping up with their fake relationship all this time rather than telling her parents they had broken up. Part of her wishes she could see Trixie’s face as she takes this concept in, but another part of her is extremely grateful that she can’t. “Okay, I’ll get ready now. Where should I meet you?”

In a panic, Katya gives Trixie her address, asking her to just meet there. She probably needs to go over a few things before they meet her parents. After all, she had flubbed a few details about Trixie, because she couldn’t _not answer_ and because it would have been too awkward to ask Trixie and admit that she’d been faking their relationship this whole time.

As if it’s any better now, she thinks.

With a disparate sigh, Katya looks back at her phone, where a message from Fame awaits her. _Whatever this is, you’re strong enough to handle it. Drinking is only a coverup, and it won’t come with any payoff. Tackling an issue without it /will/ have a payoff, especially if you think you need alcohol to do it to begin with. I’m here for you and I love you._ and then _Do I need to come over?_

Katya takes a deep breath, feeling grounded in Fame’s message. _No, I think I’m okay for right now. I’ll let you know. Thank you, as always._

And really, it’s not like Katya has time to go out and buy alcohol in the next hour anyway. The only chance she’d have is at the restaurant, but by then, the worst will be over. Trixie is better with her parents than even _she_ is, judging by how the video call had gone, which means Katya expects their surprise dinner to cause less anxiety than talking to Trixie about it beforehand.

Needless to say, she can’t seem to calm down, and her stress is at an all time high.

She goes ahead and gets ready, trying to take her time, and she boils some water to make some chamomile tea, hoping it’ll make her feel at least a little bit less anxious.

It works for a few moments, but it isn’t enough. 

She calls Fame, who reminds her that liquor won’t actually _calm_ her down, it would just _bring_ her down. Her anxiety might be quelled momentarily, but it would build back up and then some after the effects wore off. “You won’t feel any better in the long run, okay? You know this.”

“I do,” Katya affirms, repeating Fame’s words in her head like a mantra. 

“Katya,” Fame suddenly asks, hesitating before continuing, “what’s going on? Are you sure you don’t want me to come over there?”

Katya laughs. She can’t help it. All of this is just _so_ ridiculous. “It’s kind of a long story. I don’t really have time to get into it, but I’ll tell you about it later.” She hears Fame hum in response. “You know, actually, could you come over later tonight? I’ll text you.”

“You got it, babe,” Fame answers. “Good luck with whatever’s happening, and don’t forget that I’m here for you every step of the way. Text me, call me, whatever you need.”

“I appreciate you so, so much,” Katya says before they say their goodbyes and she hangs up. It’s going to be _fine_ , she tells herself, even though she’s having a hard time believing it.

Trixie shows up five minutes later.

When Katya opens the door to her tiny apartment, she almost passes out.

Trixie looks even hotter than Katya remembers, despite her memory doing the other girl justice for the past month. She’s wearing a soft pink a-line dress that’s tight across her chest and cuts across the middle of her thighs. All in all, she doesn’t have a _lot_ of skin showing, but it fits her so well that Katya thinks it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen anyone wear. Trixie’s hair is left down, but curled so intricately, it makes Katya wonder what Trixie really thinks about all of this. She doesn’t ask, and instead greets her with a simple, “Hi.”

  
“Hello,” Trixie says, stepping into the room as Katya closes the door behind her. She surveys the space and nods thoughtfully before turning to face Katya. “So your parents still think we’re dating?”

_Still_ echoes in Katya’s mind, and a nervous laughter bursts from her chest. “Um,” she starts, wondering why she hadn’t bothered to think up a reason for that before now. “It never really came up,” she lies. “It’s not like I talk to them every day.” Trixie blinks at her, obviously not buying that. And _oh_ , _right_ it’s because her parents already mentioned to Trixie that Katya _does_ talk to them every day. “Whatever, okay?” Katya laughs again. “I just wanted it to seem like, natural? So when I told them we broke up, they would have some kind of timeline.”

Trixie hums, “That’s very practical of you.” Katya can’t tell if she’s making fun of her or not.

“”Right. So,” Katya swallows. “They think you’re a music major.”

“I _am_ a music major,” Trixie says, looking amused. 

“Oh.” Katya needs to sit down, so she makes her way to the couch before letting herself collapse there, Trixie sinking down next to her.

“Did they ask what I played?”

“Yeah,” Katya tells her, “but I just said _several things_ and that _I’m sure she can tell you all about it sometime_ .” Trixie smiles at her, but Katya doesn’t know what to make of it. “I’m not a _total_ psycho.”

“Yeah, like you didn’t _totally_ make up a fake girlfriend.” 

Katya shrugs. “You seem pretty real to me,” she says, poking Trixie in the arm to make her point. 

Trixie screeches and playfully swats her away. “So what else? There’s no way you got every detail about me _right_.”

“Look, I didn’t make up that many details. Just big stuff. I do talk to them all the time, but it isn’t like they wanted the 411 on every moment of your everyday life. Mostly I talk about my own stuff.”

“Which, technically, I should know about,” Trixie points out. “All I know is that you’re in a Russian class and that you can speak and write Russian fluently. You’re going to need to brush me up on a few things if you really want this to be believable.”

“Uh, right. Well, I’m an art major, with a focus on sculpture. I’m minoring in language studies.” She debates listing off the languages she can speak to impress Trixie, but she doesn’t want to sound pretentious, and anyway, she doubts that will even come up at dinner, so she leaves it alone. “Obviously, this is where I live. I finally moved off campus last year.” She gestures around to her shitty studio apartment. “As you probably gathered, I don’t have a roommate.”

“Oh, so no other girlfriends?” Trixie asks, and it takes Katya a moment to realize she’s joking. When she does, she shrieks out a laugh, shaking her fists as she does. Trixie looks pleased with herself.

“Only you,” Katya says, but it sounds more serious than she intended. She feels like maybe she shouldn’t have said it, and to cover up her potential mistake, she scrambles for the words to keep telling Trixie some important details. It takes her a minute to get there, but when she does, she tells Trixie a little bit about her parents—what they do for a living, where they live, where they lived when Katya was growing up—anything that will give Trixie a feel for the family she’s about to spend time with. 

“Shit,” Katya mutters as she realizes what time it is. “We should head over there.” 

They’re running a little late, but her parents are probably expecting it. Katya is late all the time, but given the pace the other girl is walking, Katya wonders if Trixie is always punctual. Her quick pace paired with Katya’s height (or lack thereof) don’t seem compatible, but Katya power walks to keep up, and to her surprise, they get to the restaurant right on time.

Her parents stand from the table to greet them, hugging Trixie more excitedly than they do Katya, but she has no complaints. “Wow, Katya’s never been on time a day in her life. I love the influence you have on her,” her mother days before gushing over how beautiful Trixie’s hair and makeup is. “Your whole look is stunning! Maybe your impeccable fashion sense will start to rub off on Katya as well.”

Trixie laughs with them at ease, giving Katya a fond look that is so believable, she has to sit down. She fake laughs along to cover up how nervous this is making her. Instinctively, she glances around the table for a drink menu, but her parents must have asked the host to take it away from the table. She sighs in both relief and frustration.

It’s only a moment later that she realizes her new path of sobriety might have been a relevant detail to share with Trixie.

They’re at a round table, which makes it easier for them to all see each other, and Katya eyes Trixie nervously. It dawns on her that she doesn’t even know how old Trixie is. Is she old enough to order a drink? And if so, is that the kind of thing she would do? If Katya is this nervous, she can’t imagine how Trixie must be feeling. If it’s anything close to (or worse than) what’s going on in Katya’s mind right now, surely she’s considering ordering a drink to calm her nerves.

She glances up at Katya, almost sensing her anxiety, and she reaches out to rest a hand on Katya’s knee. Her parents are talking to each other, not paying them attention, and Trixie takes the opportunity to give her a soft smile, lean in, and ask under her breath. “You okay?”

“Um,” Katya starts, shifting under Trixie’s touch and trying not to break eye contact. “It’s just—I forgot to tell you something.” She doesn’t think she can tell her here, not with any chance of her parents catching on that Trixie doesn’t know a _huge_ thing Katya’s dealing with. They probably expect Trixie to be one of her biggest support systems, and of course, she _would be_ if they really were a couple. 

Her parents seem to realize that something is happening and their voices fade into silence. They’re not _eavesdropping_ per se, but it’s clear that any kind of private moment between Katya and Trixie has come to an end. “It’s okay, babe,” Trixie says, louder this time, somehow managing to give closure on the conversation they were actually having, the conversation her parents _thought_ they were having, and on Katya’s sense of panic, all at the same time.

Their server comes by almost immediately after the exchange to introduce himself and take their drink orders, and her parents _insist_ on having Trixie start them out. Katya fiddles with a loose string on her tartan pants, trying not to think about the ways Trixie ordering first could go wrong.

But then Trixie asks, “Do you guys have green tea?” and when the server confirms that they do, Trixie orders green tea. “And a water, please. Thank you,” she says, and Katya’s parents look entirely too happy. 

Katya orders green tea as well, grateful to have this part of the dining experience out of the way. Now that it is, she’s sure the subject of sobriety won’t come up if it didn’t here, but of course, what does Katya know.

“Trixie, we’re so grateful for you. Katya is lucky to have someone as supportive as you in her life, especially right now,” her mom says, and her dad reaches out to awkwardly pat Katya’s hand on the table. Trixie looks taken aback, and Katya knows it’s because she has no idea what they’re referring to, but she’s quick enough on her feet to cover that up. 

She smiles at Katya, actually taking her hand before smiling at her parents. “You know, the best advice I’ve ever heard about relationships is that the person you’re with should make you want to be a better person. Katya makes me want to be a better person, and with her, I feel like I am. I just hope I can do the same for her.”

_Holy fuck_.

Katya stares at her slack jawed before she realizes she has to respond in some way. _Shit_ , if only she were half as good an actress as Trixie is. She has no idea what to say, and it’s a mixture of that as well as nerves rattling against her chest and her skull that have her leaning in to give Trixie a swift kiss on the cheek, just at the corner of her mouth. She lingers for a moment, surprised at herself for doing so, as well as how soft Trixie’s skin is against her lips. When she pulls back, she makes an effort to look less panicked. She smiles at Trixie before bashfully looking at the menu, just barely catching the way Trixie’s fleeting look of surprise turns into a soft smile.

It’s clear her parents are _in love_ with Trixie, and honestly? Katya gets it.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Katya learns that Trixie can play several instruments: guitar, ukulele, and autoharp, but her favorite is guitar. Trixie is in the same year as Katya in school, but she’s younger, having turned twenty-one last August. She’s from Wisconsin and may be a country girl at heart, but she feels more at home in the city. 

Her parents ask Trixie every question under the sun to get to know her better, and Katya realizes mid meal that she’s really enjoying this. It’s easy to be swept up in the fantasy, and while a few months ago, dating didn’t feel like an option for her, now it feels like everything she’s missing. A companion. Someone to fill the role Trixie’s pretending to fill _for real._

She doesn’t speak much as her parents and Trixie keep talking as their table is cleared. The server brings the bill and Trixie insists they don’t have to pay for her, but she’s silenced with a simple. “It’s our pleasure, really.” Soon after, they’re standing outside the restaurant, Katya’s parents hugging both her and Trixie, eager for the next time they get to make a spontaneous visit.

“Don’t get too impulsive,” Katya attempts to joke, but it falls flat. She hugs them again, reassuring them that she was happy to see them, and she _really can’t wait_ for next time. Trixie just nods, enthusiastic enough to appease them, but not necessarily committed. It’s a perfect response, given the situation.

After her parents have driven off and she and Trixie start the trek back to Katya’s apartment (“I live in this direction, too,” Trixie had said), Katya feels compelled to reach over and grab Trixie’s hand. (What if her parents end up driving past them? That’s what they would _expect_ from the two of them, right?) But she doesn’t give into the impulse, letting the silence fill up the space between them instead.

Trixie is the first to break it, turning to look at Katya for a second before looking back at the path in front of them. “I can’t believe they picked that restaurant for me. Most people aren’t that considerate. _Well, they serve salads there_ ,” Trixie scoffs. “I hate when people say that, like the only thing vegetarians eat are salads.”

“You weren’t expecting them to be like that, were you?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all,” Trixie quickly says. “And even if my only option had _been_ a salad, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t have made some dumb comment like that. If anything they would have apologized for not finding a more inclusive restaurant and been genuine about it.” Katya grins. She’s right. That’s exactly what they would have done.

They fall back into silence as they walk some more, and Katya is torn about whether she should address what she believes is the elephant in the room. The problem that had been skated around at dinner but never explicitly stated. The thing she had forgotten to tell Trixie about.

On the one hand, this might not be something that continues, and it may never so much as come up between the two of them. But on the other hand, Katya already owes Trixie so much. She deserves the truth. Part of her hopes Trixie asks her about it, but the terrified part of her wants it swept all the way back under the rug.

“Thank you, by the way. _Again_ ,” Katya says. “I’m sorry about—I don’t know…,” Katya laughs, her nerves rising again, “for letting this escalate and putting you into such a weird situation.”

Trixie smiles at her, “I really don’t mind. It’s pretty fun, actually. You have nothing to worry about.” Katya immediately feels more relaxed at Trixie’s words. They’re so _genuine_. There is no doubt that Trixie means what she says. It goes above and beyond the amazing act she’s been putting on for her parents. The difference in then and now is subtle, but distinct. Trixie sighs and it sounds more like a whine as she adds, “Your parents are so nice. They should adopt me already.”

Remembering what Trixie had told her in the coffee shop, she knows there’s something serious about it buried beneath the surface, masked under the ease of jokes. Katya laughs, mostly at the way she’d said it, and plays along. She gasps, dramatically clutching her nonexistent pearls. “And put our relationship at risk?”

“Who says it would be at risk? I’ve always wanted to fuck my sister.” Trixie screeches with laughter at her own joke, so much that she has to stop walking to regain her composure. Katya laughs with her, but the implication of her and Trixie fucking has her stopping in her tracks for an entirely different reason. “Sorry,” Trixie blushes. “My humor isn’t for everybody.”

Trixie must be misreading whatever expression has taken over Katya’s face. All she knows is her brain is too busy firing images of this imaginary fucking to allow room for any control over her basic motor functions. There’s an awkward beat of silence before Katya is able to shake her head. “No, you’re hilarious,” she assures Trixie, who has turned to face Katya on the sidewalk. “You might be the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” She didn’t _mean_ to say it, but it’s true. She holds her tongue so she doesn’t embarrass herself further.

Trixie beams down at her before ducking her chin. “Thanks. You’re really interesting, too.” They stand there for a moment, Trixie’s eyes meeting Katya’s once again. They’re closer than they were before, but not as close as they were sitting in the coffee shop the day they met. The air feels different and staticky. Trixie leans in ever so slightly, and Katya holds her breath. “We should hang out more,” Trixie suddenly says, breaking both the silence and their eye contact. 

“I’d like that,” Katya says, her voice so breathy, she almost doesn’t recognize it.

They share most of the remainder of the walk in silence, until they’re standing outside Katya’s apartment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Trixie smiles at her. “You’re sweet, but I’ll be okay. It’s not far. Five minutes, tops. And I promise I’ll text you when I get home safely.” Katya nods. “Tonight was fun, Katya. Tell your parents I said thank you for inviting me,” she winks before turning on one heeled boot and strolling down the sidewalk. Katya stands there longer than she should before she goes inside, still speechless, even with no one to talk to.

Returning to her apartment feels like a relief, and she didn’t realize exactly how on edge she had been for most of dinner, being chased around by her own thoughts and worries. She collapses onto the couch and pulls out her phone, opening the message thread between her and Fame. As usual, Fame had been right. The payoff for getting through such an insane situation without a drink is more fulfilling than giving in would have been. 

She knows she’s good for the rest of the night, but she texts Fame to tell her she just got home and she could come over whenever. Fame responds immediately and says she’ll be right over. It isn’t until then that Katya realizes how antsy she is. She spends the next twenty minutes cleaning her apartment, reorganizing the scarce amount of food in her cabinets and fridge, and finally, making tea. Fame arrives just as the water starts to boil, letting herself in because Katya always forgets to lock the door when she comes home.

Immediately, she hugs Katya and asks her if she’s okay. She trusts Katya when she nods and tells her, “I’m good,” and she doesn’t ask any questions until they’re both on the couch drinking tea.

Katya is endlessly grateful for Fame. She was one of the few friendships of hers that lasted through everything. Too many of Katya’s friendships had ended over stupid drunk decisions and disagreements and too many of them ended when she started getting sober and couldn’t go out and party with them anymore. It was this that made the first few weeks the hardest. Katya couldn’t understand why her friends couldn’t stand by her for making a positive life change, and it made her wonder if it was even the right decision, but Fame was with her every step of the way. She had been sober for almost two years when Katya told her she needed help, and she took on the unspoken role of Katya’s sponsor. And her best friend of course.

“Fame,” Katya starts. “You won’t believe what I’ve gotten myself into.”

At that, Fame’s eyebrows raise, “I don’t doubt it. Do tell.”

That’s all the prompting it takes for Katya to animatedly explain everything to Fame, right from the beginning—that day in the coffee shop—all the way to dinner with Trixie and her parents tonight, after not speaking to her for weeks but still letting her parents believe their relationship was real. “I know Violet has probably told you some of this, but her perspective is biased.”

“Biased on what grounds?”

“You know, she thinks I’m an idiot.”

“But you are,” Fame says, a smirk playing on her lips. “All kidding aside, you obviously like this girl. If you know she’s gay _and_ she’s willing to fake date you at dinner with your parents, the chances of her being interested are solid.” Katya hums. She doesn’t think so, but it’s something to consider. “Has she texted you yet?”

“Oh, shit,” Katya mumbles, scrambling to the kitchen. “I forgot.” Fame sighs, but Katya knows she’s smiling even without looking at her. She’s too preoccupied with her phone and the sight of new text notifications. Trixie’s name with the princess emoji. The first message (sent almost hour ago) says: _made it home safe! told you so. i had a great time tonight._ It’s followed up with two heart emojis, the pink sparkly one and the yellow one. Katya feels herself blushing. The second message (sent twenty minutes ago) says: _text me back whore!!!!!_ with an eclectic series of emoji expressions that make Katya laugh. Fame looks over her shoulder. The final message (sent only five minutes ago) says: _are you fake breaking up with me? :((((((_

“Girl,” Fame says. “She likes you.”

Katya scoffs a laugh. “Not like that. If she did, wouldn’t she have texted me before today? She’s had my number since we met.”

“Didn’t you say that _you_ were the one who asked for _her_ number?”

“Oh.” Fame gives her a look. “But still, that doesn’t actually _prove_ anything.” Just as she says that, her phone buzzes in her hand and the two of them look down to see a picture of Trixie fake crying into a pint of ice cream.

“You better text your girlfriend back.”

“ _Fake_ girlfriend,” Katya corrects.

“Right.” Fame laughs at her, but Katya is too invested in texting Trixie back to care.

.

.

.

Texting becomes a regular thing for them.

They don’t text _all the time_ , but Katya definitely receives texts from Trixie more frequently than anyone who isn’t her mom and the same goes for sending them. Although, if anyone were to glance at their message thread, they would both look insane. Whatever conversations they do have over text are always on Katya’s favorite side of unusual, but most of their messages consist of pictures of weird shit out of context and things that happen to them throughout the day that are insignificant overall but worth mentioning to each other.

Most of their actual conversations happen in person, which Katya favors. They meet up for coffee at least a few times a week, talking about everything from childhood traumas to the best and worst types of cheese. Trixie has quickly become someone she would consider a friend. Maybe even a best friend. But in some ways, Katya still holds back, afraid to give her the honest truth about herself. Regardless, their friendship blooms, and to Katya, it always feels wholesome and genuine. She’s sure that she isn’t the only one hiding things.

She and Trixie had just been studying together at the library, in silence but side by side at the computers, and when Katya had to leave to go to class, she was surprised to get a text from Trixie the second she stepped through the library doors and into the warm spring air. 

**Trixie:** _hey do you have plans thursday night?_

Katya stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a freshman to stumble into her. “Sorry,” she says, moving to the side as the student scurries away. She looks back at the message and heart pounds against her ribcage. They never make concrete plans. And why didn’t Trixie ask her five minutes ago when they were together?

**Katya** : _nope. totally free. why didn’t you ask me this when i was in there with you??_

**Trixie:** _i was nervous_

_Okay,_ Katya thinks. She doesn’t know what to expect, but she tries not to expect anything. Especially since she would probably be way out of left field with any assumption she mustered up.

**Trixie:** _one of my music classes is doing a concert thursday night_ _and i’ll be in it_

**Trixie:** _i wanted to invite you, if you were interested_

**Trixie** : _it’s okay if you don’t want to. i know those things can be really boring_

**Katya:** _no trixie stop. of course i want to be there!! this is huge!!_

**Trixie** : _it’s really not_

**Trixie:** _but thanks_

**Trixie:** _it starts at seven in the music building. the small auditorium, not the giant one._

Katya assures her she’ll be there, and she teases Trixie mercilessly all week about not just telling her in person. She relishes in the way her playful jabs bring a pink flush to Trixie’s cheeks and the way she ducks her head to hide her smile from Katya. “I don’t have to take this,” she’ll tell her minutes later when she’s gotten control over her facial expressions again. “I can end this fake relationship whenever I want to.” She pokes Katya’s chest on the last few words for emphasis, trying to look firm but instead just looking cute. 

The threat is Katya’s cue to fake pout, bottom lip poked out as far as possible as she looks up at Trixie with the biggest, saddest, puppy dog eyes she can manage. Usually Trixie laughs at her and playfully pushes her, but this time she returns the pout before a soft smile wipes it out. “I’m sorry, baby,” she says as though she were talking to a literal baby, and pulling Katya against her, stroking her hair in exaggerated motions.

All Katya can think about is her cheek against Trixie’s boobs, and she shrieks with laughter, hitting Trixie’s thigh with her hands in a drumming motion until she’s released. Trixie rolls her eyes at her. A library attendant comes over to kindly remind Katya that while talking is allowed, screaming is not, and Trixie has to cover her mouth to fight back her own screaming laugh.

Once they prove they’ve settled down with enough silence to get the library attendant to stop glancing in their direction, Trixie sits up on the couch and starts packing up her notebooks. “I should go get ready.” Her concert is tonight, and she’s been casual about it all day, but now, Katya can see some nerves poking through.

“Hey,” she says, her hand settling against Trixie’s forearm. She looks up at her, worry evident in her big, brown eyes. “You’re going to be amazing.” She nods, relaxing slightly under Katya’s touch. “And if you don’t, I’ll be right there in the audience to openly laugh at you. I even have some rotten tomatoes I can throw.”

Trixie swats at her, screaming for half a second before abruptly stopping, hand over her mouth. They both glance up to the main desk where the library attendant is glaring at them. “Shit,” Trixie mutters. “I better run.”

“She’s gonna get you,” Katya says before she makes fake siren noises and they both try hard to stifle their laughter. 

“If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

Katya’s eyes widen and she starts rapidly packing. She isn’t going to let Trixie leave her here after causing the biggest ruckus the library has ever seen. Trixie could easily sabotage her by making even more noise and leaving Katya to deal with it, and she _would_ , Katya thinks, cautiously eyeing Trixie’s suspicious smile. Or at least, what she thought was a suspicious smile only moments ago. This smile though, Katya can’t place.

Moments later they’re conspiratorially running out of the library, not stopping until they’re out of the immediate vicinity where they can be as loud as they want to—their only consequence being annoyed stares from pedestrians, which of course, neither of them give two shits about.

They laugh together for a few more moments, catching their breath, and Katya notes that Trixie definitely seems less nervous than before. The idea that it could be due to her own influence makes Katya’s heart swell. She wants to be able to be there for Trixie in such a way, and she hopes that she really is, and that it isn’t just something she’s imagining.

When they part ways, Katya hugs her and tells her how good she’s going to do and that she can’t wait to cheer Trixie on in the crowd. “Don’t forget your tomatoes,” Trixie says before she pulls back, her breath tickling Katya’s ear. She salutes in an effort to distract Trixie from noticing how red her face probably is—like the aforementioned tomatoes.

Katya decides to get dressed up, not caring if she ends up being overdressed. Her fashion usually turns heads anyway, so why not look extra nice for Trixie? She considers buying her flowers but decides at the last minute that it would be overkill. Instead she buys a tomato.

Overall, Trixie was right. The concert is boring, and it’s in the smallest auditorium Katya’s ever been in. It’s moderately full, but with the number of seats available, that doesn’t say much. As expected, Katya’s favorite part of the concert is Trixie’s autoharp solo where she plays _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_. Katya leans forward in her seat, mouth open in awe, the entire time. She’s sad when it’s over, and it’s all she can think about for the rest of the show.

She races to Trixie the moment she sees her afterwards, so enthusiastic about complimenting her that she forgets she’s holding a tomato. Trixie laughs and takes it from her. “Thanks, but you don’t have to fake your enjoyment of the concert.”

“Why not? Our whole relationship is fake,” Katya jokes and Trixie screams. “No, but seriously, you did amazing. You’re so talented, Trixie.” Trixie blushes, grinning at Katya.

“You really liked it? You weren’t bored?”

“Your part was my favorite. The rest was boring. But your part made up for all the other shit.” She’s talking too loudly, but doesn’t realize until a few scowls are thrown her way by Trixie’s peers. Her only response is to shrug. Trixie just laughs at her, not seeming to mind.

“Thanks for coming. And for not throwing this tomato at me.”

“Who says I’m not still going to?” Katya teases.

“Me, since I’m the one holding it.” Katya eyes the tomato then looks back at Trixie, a playful look in her eyes that says she knows _exactly_ what Katya’s about to do. As Katya lunges for the tomato, Trixie holds it high up above her head, leaving Katya nearly tackling her to the ground as she clings to her, standing on her tiptoes to reach it. Trixie cackles and takes a step back.

“You cunt!” Katya laughs, racing forward again. They’ve accrued some attention from the other people in the hallway, muttering or clearing their throats in annoyance, but Katya couldn’t care less. She’s smiling so much that her whole jaw hurts, and seeing the same giddy reaction in Trixie just makes it better. 

After several attempts, including one where Katya literally jumped and knocked Trixie into the wall, she makes it clear that she isn’t giving up, and with a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, Trixie relents. Katya cheers when she has the tomato back in her hands for a brief moment before she tosses it at Trixie, who catches it. “You’re so weird.”

“You like it,” Katya says, giving Trixie an exaggerated wink along with a few obscene gestures and sounds that make Trixie crack up.

“I do.”

.

.

.

Katya isn’t sure exactly when she stopped going into mild panic whenever her parents called, but she’s glad for it anyway. They ask about Trixie every time without fail, and Katya is practically giddy that she can give them _real_ updates on her life instead of making random shit up.

“I went to one of her concerts! She’s so talented, Mom,” Katya gushes on the phone. She goes on and on before pausing for a breath, going into great detail about the depth of Trixie’s talents and how Katya didn’t even know what an autoharp even _was_ before she met Trixie, and she can’t even begin to wrap her mind around how to play it with such expertise, or even play it at all. “Believe me, Mom, she is the most talented person in the whole music program.”

“I believe you, sweetie,” her mom affirms. “Maybe we’ll get to see her perform sometime. Do you know if she has any more concerts we could attend?”

“Oh my god, Trixie would love that,” Katya says, and she smiles because she knows its true, even if their relationship isn’t. “I’ll ask her, okay?”

They say their goodbyes and Katya _promises_ to tell Trixie they said hello. She’s about to text her when she sees she has some messages from her already.

**Trixie:** _hey_

**Trixie:** _i’m thirsty and i miss you_

**Trixie** : _we haven’t hung out in like two whole days_

**Trixie** : _wanna get coffee with me? :)_

Katya laughs. It hasn’t been long since she received the texts, and she wastes no time in responding.

**Katya** : _obviously!! i’ll meet you there in like twenty minutes?_

**Trixie** : _can’t wait :)_

Katya’s heart is racing as she gets ready, but she doesn’t know why. They talk all the time, and they hang out all the time. This particular time isn’t any different at all. She _always_ wants to look her best for Trixie—she has from the very beginning, so obviously this outing is just like every other.

She tries not to overthink it as she walks over to the coffee shop, knowing it won’t help her nerves. When she gets there, Trixie hasn’t arrived yet, but their table is still empty. The chair is gone again, which is _fine_ since it was like that when they first met, but the thought of sitting that close to Trixie again makes Katya sweat. She reserves the table for them before ordering their drinks—a chai tea latte for Trixie, and an iced black coffee for herself.

Trixie arrives soon after their drinks are prepared, and she smiles brightly the second she sees Katya and she practically skips to the table and sits next to her with no hesitation, seemingly unaffected by their physical proximity, and if anything, more giddy by it.

“We get to share again!” she says, and Katya has to remind herself to breathe when Trixie’s thigh presses against hers. 

“Oh, well you know, I had to sell off the chair to pay for our drinks,” Katya jokes lamely, and Trixie screeches.

“You sold the establishment’s chair to buy their product?” Trixie asks, fighting back another fit of laughter.

“Of course! It’s a real _fuck you_ to capitalism, don’t you think?” Trixie loses it again then, and Katya does as well, more amused at Trixie than her own joke. 

When their laughter dies down, neither of them say anything, but the air between them feels thick, like there’s something that one of them _wants_ to say or _needs_ to say. Trixie’s eyes stay on Katya’s for longer than Katya knows what to do with, but she can’t seem to look away. Because of their proximity at the table, they’re already so close that its impossible for Katya not to think about what it would be like if she moved a few inches closer and captured Trixie’s lips in hers.

But she doesn’t, and she’s sure she’s imagining the way Trixie glances down at her lips. 

“Um,” she says, at a loss for real words. Trixie starts talking at the same moment and Katya waves her hand, indicating for Trixie to talk first. “I don’t actually have anything to say,” Katya admits, unsure where she’s going with this. She looks away, laughing awkwardly.

“I don’t either,” Trixie says, but Katya isn’t convinced. 

“You know you can tell me anything.” The moment grows serious again, and Katya feels herself get fidgety. “You know, as your fake girlfriend,” she jokes, attempting to break the tension.

Trixie laughs with her, and Katya immediately relaxes. “Of course, of course, as your fake girlfriend.” She sounds sad, and Katya wishes she knew what was bothering her so she could fix it. “I’m fine,” she says, not sounding fine at all, but Katya doesn’t say anything. “Thank you by the way,” she adds, knocking her cup against Katya’s in a _cheers_. 

“Of course,” Katya says. “I couldn’t have you dying of thirst on me. I would miss you too much.”

Trixie beams, “You would?”

She looks so happy and beautiful that it renders Katya speechless. She is powerless to do anything other than smile back and nod animatedly. “Yes!” she tacks on, louder than she meant to, but it just makes Trixie smile wider. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” she tells her and she means it more than she realizes when the introspection hits, and she realizes that without Trixie, she really does feel like she would be floating in space, untethered and ungrounded.

She doesn’t tell her, and she wonders if that’s what’s causing the unspoken feeling between them.

Of course, it could always be that Katya hasn’t opened up yet about her addiction recovery.

“Are you okay?” Trixie asks her, and Katya jumps, not having realized she had gone to a place mentally that would be evident to anyone around her. 

“Yes,” she answers simply. “I was just thinking about how the whole reason we’re here right now is because _you_ missed _me_.” Katya sticks her tongue out, her smile widening when she sees Trixie blushing.

“ _And_ I was thirsty,” she insists.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Trixie mock gasps, waving her phone in the air. “I have the receipts!”

After that, they fall into easy conversation, but Katya can’t stop thinking about the silence that fell between them earlier that felt like something was going unsaid. It certainly wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it felt longer, more significant. Katya has yet to pinpoint the cause, but she has a pretty good idea.

She decides to ask Fame about it later that night.

“Something unspoken about two people who are _fake dating_? Wow, I wonder what that could be,” Violet says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and Fame shoots her a look from the couch. She just shrugs and goes back to whatever she was doing before.

Fame doesn’t apologize for her girlfriend, but then again, Katya doesn’t expect her to. It’s just how Violet is. Although, the words stick in the back of her brain like a cooked noodle to a wall. Is the answer really that obvious?

“So anyway, I was thinking it was because I hadn't talked to her about my sobriety yet.”

“You still haven’t told her?”

Katya shrugs, “It hasn’t come up?” she feebly offers, and it isn’t a lie. How would the subject come up anyway? It isn’t like Katya has been _looking_ for ways to slip it into casual conversation.

“You should tell her,” Fame says, and even though Katya already knows she’s right, the tone in Fame’s voice affirms the truth even more. 

“I know,” Katya whines, “I just don’t want her to think of me any differently. She’s made me feel so…I don’t know, _solid_. I don’t even think about alcohol when I’m with her. It’s like…when I’m with her, she’s all I need?” Katya’s face scrunches up as she admits it, realizing how absolutely corny it sounds. “She makes me feel grounded, you know?”

“I do know,” Fame says, smiling fondly toward the kitchen where Violet is probably spying in on them. “It’s good that you have someone who makes you feel that way, especially considering she doesn’t even know. I can’t believe you haven’t told her yet. Don’t get me wrong, _I get it_ , but this is serious. And it’s _new_. It’s a little dangerous to act so flippantly about it this soon. I just worry about you.”

Katya nods, “I know. I promise I’m going to tell her, just…when the time feels right. But soon.”

“Good, because you know that this topic _coming up_ would likely mean being in a situation where you have to turn down a drink and then have to explain _why_. Talking about it will already be struggle enough. We don’t need you making this any harder on yourself.” Katya nods. She hadn’t really considered that before, but now that she has, she’s thinking about what it would really mean, to open up to Trixie about this and how she would react. “Also, I don’t think that’s what’s going unspoken between the two of you,” Fame suddenly adds, and Katya almost does a full on spit take with her water.

“What?” she blurts, so shocked that she almost doesn’t hear Violet cheering in agreement from the kitchen at the same time. With that, Katya just feels even more lost.

“Like I said,” Violet sing-songs as she makes her way into the room. She doesn’t have anything with her and Katya squints, completely convinced that Violet was only in the kitchen to spy on them.

Katya frowns. She has more important things to worry about than Violet snooping. “I’m confused.”

“Tell me about your relationship,” Violet prompts. “You text all the time right? Hang out at any given opportunity?” 

Katya nods, “Of course. We’re friends.”

Violet quirks a brow in response, but doesn’t argue. “Does that include good morning and good night texts?”

At that, Katya blushes. She lost count of how many times she woke up to a _good morning xx_ text from Trixie and gotten a kiss emoji attached to Trixie’s good night text. Not to mention all the ones she’s sent herself, and although her emoji choice is a little more unorthodox, she knows there’s always a sentimentality behind it that she can’t quite wrap her brain around. Violet smirks, getting the answer she needs from Katya’s expression alone. 

“Girl, you’re so stupid.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Katya argues, immediately defensive. She looks to Fame for back up, but Fame is just smiling at her like she’s in on the joke.

“You’re very smart, Katya, but you really have your moments.” Katya blinks at her, lost. “Do you remember when we talked about realizing that our addiction was what we were in relationship with? Alcohol was the first thing we’d think about when we woke up and the last thing we thought about before we fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” Katya answers, still not following.

“But that isn’t the case anymore, is it?” Fame poses the question, and Katya has to lean back on the couch with the weight of it. She had said the words herself—she doesn’t feel like she needs to drink when Trixie is around. She feels grounded. For a while after she quit, she still had many times where the first and last thing she thought about during the day was alcohol, but it had slowly faded out. There were still days though, where it happened, since Katya had nothing to fill that void. But right now she realizes, maybe she does. “It seems like Trixie has filled that position, don’t you think?”

“Oh,” Katya says, her eyes wide as she _really_ thinks back. How had she not realized this before? How could she not even realize that she thinks about Trixie as soon as she wakes up, wondering if she’s already awake or how messy her hair must look first thing in the morning or if she’s going to have a good day? Or right before she falls asleep, hoping that she has good dreams and a great sleep and that they’ll get to talk tomorrow? “Oh,” Katya says again, meeting both Fame and Violet’s eyes as they grin at her realization.

“You know that means something right? More than just your recovery?” Fame asks, and Katya slowly nods.

“I think so.”

“That was what happened to me, with Violet,” Fame explains, grinning over at Violet who leans in to kiss her, their fingers intertwining. “One day it just occurred to me, she was what I thought about, and all I could think about was the relationship metaphor. I felt stronger in general, but I felt stronger with her by my side,” they smile at each other and Katya is struck with such a strong feeling of _longing_ for what they have that it makes her dizzy. “When that clicked, I asked her out. Along with quitting, it was one of the best decisions I made, because I know she always has my best interests at heart.”

Katya knew the story, but this is the first time she’s hearing it like _this_ . It hits different. She knows it’s because of what’s going on in her own life, but she’s having trouble nailing down the correlation. “But that would mean, Trixie is my Violet?” she asks, unsure. Her phrasing makes the other two beam, probably because they really are _that_ couple, no matter how hard they try to deny it. However, it doesn’t clear anything up overall for Katya. “Okay…”

“Honestly, I’m having a hard time believing you two aren’t dating for real,” Violet says. 

With the turns this conversation is making, Katya almost feels like she’s drowning in a whirlpool, barely keeping her head afloat. “I don’t know what to tell you. We’re just friends.”

“And you’ve never thought there was more to it than that?”

Katya shrugs. “We certainly know how to put on a show for my parents. I figured that’s where the chemistry plays in when it’s just us. Like…leftover from putting on the act.”

“Hasn’t she only met your parents like, twice?”

“Yeah, but—”

“How much leftover chemistry can there be to exist every single time you’re together? Especially since most of your relationship built up _after_ the last time you two were ‘acting,’” Violet continues, with appropriately placed air quotes. 

“I don’t know,” Katya answers, unsure and lost. Violet just rolls her eyes. Fame says nothing. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Violet, tell me.”

She hesitates, staring at Katya as if gauging whatever her response will be, and Katya braces herself. “Okay fine,” she finally relents, looking away as she says, “I know you don’t think so, but I just think you’re being ridiculous.”

“Well what do you expect me to do? I can't fake break up with her! My parents love her too much."

“Oh my god! Katya, you’re literally so dumb. For one, no one is asking you to _fake break up_ with her. And second, even if we were, this has nothing to do with your parents. You don't want to fake break up with her because _you_ like her, not your parents, and you’re too scared to ask her out for real. That or your denial actually does run that deep.”

“It does,” Fame affirms, and Katya frowns.

“That can’t be right,” Katya mumbles, but even as she says it, she’s not sure who she’s trying to convince anymore. She can’t deny that she’s attracted to Trixie and has been from the very beginning, and it’s definitely true that she’s the focal point of Katya’s first and last thoughts of the day, but admitting that she wants to do something about the feelings she’s been ignoring is something she isn’t sure she’s ready for.

Her friends must notice her putting herself through it mentally because Fame gets up to make tea and Violet rests an uncharacteristically gentle hand on Katya’s knee. “You’ll figure it out.”

Katya sighs. She sure hopes so.

.

.

.

It seems logical for Katya to get some time and space to think about everything Violet brought up last night. She could text Trixie and say that she’s feeling under the weather today and will probably be turning toward full radio silence for the rest of the weekend. It would give her a good chance to process everything she’d been avoiding since she _met_ Trixie, as well as think ahead on how she would like to proceed with her feelings and their relationship.

She keeps their conversation light throughout the day, and she doesn’t leave her apartment. It’s normal for her on a weekend to just stay home, given that most people she knows from her classes spend the weekends getting drunk. Her only viable options for hanging out are Fame and Violet, who are having date night, and then of course Trixie, who Katya can’t stop thinking about.

What would it be like if she just caved and told Trixie how she felt? Would she feel the same way? What if she didn’t? Would that be the end of their friendship? She wastes her afternoon away, pondering the ways she could broach the subject, if she even wants to, and how Trixie would react. 

They don’t text very much, but Katya lights up every time she has a message from Trixie, even if the message is only a dumb meme. She wonders what she’s up to, and she almost asks a few times, but then she reminds herself she’s taking some time and space to organize her thoughts. This is good for her.

But then—

**Trixie:** _ugh my roommate is having loud sex and our walls are too fucking thin for that_

**Trixie:** _go figure my headphones would break now of all times :(_

Katya spends a moment laughing at Trixie’s expense before she answers.

**Katya:** _why don’t you come hang out with me? no loud sex here, or roommates for that matter_

It isn’t until she can see that Trixie’s typing back that Katya realizes what she’s gotten herself into. But honestly, she isn’t mad about it in the slightest.

**Trixie:** _truly an offer i can’t refuse ;)_

**Trixie:** _i can be there in ten minutes_

Katya responds in the affirmative before springing into action, trying to get her place looking as nice as she can. Sure, Trixie’s been here before, but those circumstances were so different that it almost feels like she hasn’t. And anyway, there’s nothing to stop Trixie from making fun of her mess this time.

When a knock sounds at the door, Katya’s heart races even though she knew it was coming—that _Trixie_ was coming—and she hovers by the door before finally opening it. It’s just _Trixie_ . She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. She hadn’t even _said_ anything yet.

But of course, as soon as the door opens—

“Hi, Trixie! I really like you.”

_Fuck_ . Katya wants to facepalm herself into oblivion, but instead she tries to relax as she takes in Trixie’s bright smile and contagious laugh. “Looks like _someone_ ’s been practicing their hosting skills. I like you too. I can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue. Pearl’s been…a little wild with finals coming up. And it’s fine, but—”

“Headphones?” 

“Headphones,” Trixie nods, and then they fall into silence.

Katya shifts her weight from one foot to the next. Having Trixie in her tiny apartment feels like the world has been tilted by a miniscule degree, not big enough to know exactly what’s different, but noticeable enough to feel off balance. “Would you like something to drink?”

It’s an obvious and completely _normal_ attempt to be a good host, but asking the question makes Katya immediately more nervous. It’s late enough on a weekend that drinking alcohol is acceptable by societal standards, and Katya is still unsure how Trixie navigates that world. Of course, Katya could easily say that she doesn’t have any alcohol, but she isn’t sure she’s ready to bring the subject up at all, even if it isn’t in the context of sobriety.

At the last minute, she considers listing what she _does_ have, but before she can, Trixie answers, “I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” with a patient and kind smile. 

_God_ she’s so perfect Katya just wants to pull her close and bury her face against her chest, ear pressed against that perfect heartbeat, but instead she nods, gesturing to the sofa over the counter that separates the two spaces. “Make yourself comfortable. Is tea okay?”

“Tea is perfect,” Trixie says, still smiling as she wanders into the living room, surveying the space as she goes.

Katya turns to the electric kettle to fill it and turn it on, sighing with relief. She settles on a new kind of tea she’d found at an all organic store. It’s sweet and satisfying, and she hopes that Trixie likes it. She thinks she will. As she prepares their tea, she keeps her back to Trixie in a vague attempt to maintain her cool composure and make sure she stays in a good headspace.

When she makes her way into the living room, she can’t help but smile at the way Trixie has settled against her couch cushions and beams up at Katya as she approaches, taking the mug as soon as she can reach it.

“I didn’t add sugar or anything, but if you want to, feel free.”

“This is fine,” Trixie says, smiling into her mug before looking back up at Katya. “I like your apartment.” Katya snorts. “I mean, I know I’ve been in here before but with, you know, everything happening, I didn’t get a good look.”

“It’s really not that special. Kind of dingy.”

Trixie laughs, almost embarrassed. “I was going to say it’s very _you_.”

“Oh, so I’m dingy?” 

“No,” Trixie blushes. “You’re perfect. And this place suits you. For where you’re at in life, anyway.”

Katya tries not to dwell too much on the « _you’re perfect_ » part of Trixie’s words. “I know, it’s very much an I-eat-ramen-for-dinner-every-night-because-I’m-a-starving-artist kind of place, isn’t it?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Trixie laughs, but she’s still blushing and tries to hide it by ducking her head. Katya’s heart swells.

When the tea is cooled enough, Trixie takes a tentative sip, and Katya awaits her critique with anticipation. “Oh wow,” she says. “This is really good.”

“I got it a few days ago, but it’s already one of my favorites.”

“Well if you plan to keep it in stock, maybe I should come over more often,” Trixie says, _winking_ as she does, and this time Katya is the one blushing. It’s weird, something she isn’t used to, but for weeks now, her life has felt emptier than usual, and she doesn’t mind filling it up with new things. New teas, new people, new _feelings_.

She only nods in response, blaming her nervousness for the silence that befalls her. Usually when things are this quiet, this soon, when Katya is with someone else one on one, it feels uncomfortable and awkward, but with Trixie, it isn’t like that. It feels peaceful, like there’s no pressure to say anything at all.

“Just so you know,” Trixie says, “it could be a while until the coast is clear back at my place.”

“That’s okay. Stay as long as you like.” 

Trixie beams at her as she sips at her tea, obviously just as comfortable in the silence between them as Katya is. Of course, Katya’s mind is the furthest thing from _quiet_. Her brain is frantically leaping from one thought to the next—between everything Fame and Violet had said, to her feelings for Trixie, to sobriety and the fact that she hasn’t talked to Trixie about recovery and that part of her life yet, she doesn’t think she can keep quiet for too long.

“So, it’s Saturday night,” Katya says with a chuckle, “isn’t there some party happening somewhere that you’d rather be at?” She takes a long sip of tea in an attempt to hide how nervous she is. She isn’t sure what she’s expecting. Trixie could easily be the kind of girl who goes out all the time, _partyin’ hard_ or whatever people say these days, but she could also be the opposite. A wild child in her own way.

Trixie shrugs, “I wouldn’t know. I’m not really the party type. I mean, that scene can be fun…you know, if you’re with your friends and you’ve had a couple of drinks, but those parties always spin out of control. People throwing up after drinking too much shitty beer, the long lines for the bathroom, and don’t even get me started on those stupid white frat boys,” Trixie rolls her eyes. “They hit on you _relentlessly_ and then try and mix you a drink in what they think is a chivalrous gesture, but then the drink always ends up being half vodka and they’re just trying to get you drunk to fuck you in someone else’s room. No thank you.”

Katya nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“And what’s with straight boys not understanding what _lesbian_ means? One time when some douche asked what my name was, I just said _lesbian_ , and he didn’t get the hint. Honestly, it was a little sad. So yeah,” Trixie laughs, almost embarrassed like she just realized how long she’d been talking. Katya wants to tell her that she could listen to her talk forever. “It’s not really my style.”

“What is your style?” 

“I don’t know,” Trixie says, taking a moment to think about it. “Something more like having a glass of wine while taking a bath. You know, chill and classy.” 

Katya smiles. “I can see it,” she says. Trixie blushes at her choice of words. “Oh god, I mean…I can’t literally _see_ it. Like, I’m not imagining you in the bath or anything, just, um…it makes sense is what I meant.” She finishes the rest of her tea in one go before setting her mug on the coffee table and readjusting on the couch, hugging her knees against her chest and trying to _not_ think about Trixie in the bath.

This is one of those times where Trixie would usually make fun of her for being so erratic and saying something stupid, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, she sets her mug next to Katya’s and turns to face her on the couch, her socked feet tucked underneath her. There’s a crease on her brow that Katya wishes she could take away as easily as she put it there, but she knows what she needs to say and she doubts it’s going to make Trixie any less concerned. “Katya, are you okay?” Trixie asks.

“Yeah, yeah, mhm, of course,” Kaya answers too fast, another tell that she’s actually _not_ , and she pinches the bridge of her nose, reminding herself that talking to Trixie about her recovery and her sobriety is long overdue. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I should have done it weeks ago, but I was afraid it would change how you saw me—that you wouldn’t like me anymore.” She sighs to herself. “God, that sounds so dumb.”

“It’s not dumb,” Trixie assures her, all soft smiles. Her eyes are patient and kind, and Katya just wants to melt into them. She doesn’t know how she could have been afraid.

Before she loses her nerve, she just says it: “I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean. I can’t—I…um. I used to drink all the time. Like, _all_ the time.” she hesitates, not sure how much detail she should go into here. Trixie doesn’t need to know the details about how it was, quite literally, _all_ the time—kahlua in her morning coffee, secret drinks in water bottles during class, at work, partying as an excuse to get wasted without needing to keep it a secret. She knows it makes her look bad, because it _was_ bad, but she doesn’t feel ready to tell Trixie _everything_ , so instead she just says, “It became a problem, and I had to get help.”

She looks up at Trixie, who’s still looking at her in the same kind way, no judgement evident on her features. It’s like she’s trying to tell Katya that _it’s okay, this doesn’t change anything, I care about you, you can tell me anything_ , and Katya thinks that it’s working. 

“I’ve started my recovery about three months ago, so it’s all fairly recent. I can’t say I’ve been _sober_ for three months, but I’ve been doing my best. Um,” she trails off, swallowing hard. She hadn’t wanted to be detailed before, with the problem itself, but with _recovery_ , the details feel different. More important. “The beginning was the hardest, you know, with withdrawals. No one ever talks about it, but quitting cold turkey when your brain is so used to alcohol isn’t a cake walk. It isn’t just like _just stop drinking_ , you know? I had a lot of slip ups. I still do. But the last one was only like, a week and a half ago? And it wasn’t that bad.” She stops again with a shrug. The details of this aren’t as relevant either. Trixie doesn’t need to hear about how she got drunk on a freaking _four loko_ of all things and fell into an existential spiral of despair.

The important thing was that it affirmed a truth she had to keep reminding herself. Alcohol never did her any favors.

“It’s still hard, but I wish it weren’t. Everyone drinks. And being in college? _Not_ drinking is taboo. I’ve lost friends, because of my drinking, but also because I stopped. It wasn’t great, but in retrospect I can see that it was for the best. The friends who left me when I started trying to get sober weren’t really my friends, and they made that clear. They chose partying over me, but I chose my life over alcohol. And I have Fame, who’s sober too. Even her pain-in-the-ass girlfriend,” Katya snorts. “I’m grateful to have them both.”

“And you have me,” Trixie says. She reaches over to take Katya’s hand. “And this doesn’t change the way I think about you at all—if anything I just have more respect for you if that’s even possible. You’re still the same Katya I, you know, really like,” Trixie says, laughing as she does so with a look that says she hasn’t forgotten Katya’s _completely insane_ greeting at the door and is _definitely_ making fun of her for it. But Katya is grateful for the break in tension, letting herself relax as they laugh together.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down are you?”

“Never,” Trixie affirms. “I liked it though,” she adds, a little softer. It makes Katya smile, but she looks away. Whatever her face looks like right now, it’s probably giving her away too much, and Katya has already maxed out the number of life changing revelations she gets to share with Trixie today. Sobriety gets covered today. Feelings can wait. Indefinitely.

  
  


“Can I ask…” Trixie suddenly says, but trails off, clearly nervous about what she wants to ask. “How did it happen?”

Katya blinks in surprise, having expected a different question—the one about stopping, when she knew it was a _problem_ -problem. All of it’s hard to talk about and she isn’t used to sharing so much of this with anyone who isn’t Fame or Violet. But something about this feels therapeutic in its own way, and she’s glad Trixie isn’t just asking or saying the obvious. She can tell Trixie is about to take back the question at Katya’s hesitation, but Katya speaks before she can. “At first it was just normal college drinking. It wasn’t for a while that I started abusing it. I guess it was like…I don’t know, like I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. So I just kept drinking and kept trying to numb myself. I never thought it actually worked until I started trying to quit.” She pauses, closing her eyes, and she feels Trixie’s hand on hers, warm, soft, and encouraging. “I didn’t know how much had changed until I started recovery. I mean, at the time, it was very much that it made me feel better—different. I was fading away with every sip, and then finally, when I wouldn’t drink, when withdrawal wasn’t as bad, I felt like myself again. The me that I was before I had a problem—all the parts of me I thought had disappeared.”

Trixie is looking at her intently, both her hands now wrapped around Katya’s. There is still no trace of judgement in her eyes, and the sight of them—the care they hold—makes her relax. “I had this crazy realization a couple of weeks ago, just lying in bed, stone cold sober, and something happened, something insignificant—maybe it was a sound or a smell, I don’t remember— triggered this overtly positive feeling, but I had something like…nostalgia? But it was for a feeling that wasn’t that far in the past, but one that I missed having. I realized I had been so fucked up for the last couple of years that I didn’t even know I didn’t have that feeling anymore. I realized that by trying to numb the bad, I also numbed all the good. And I wanted to get it all back.”

“What was the feeling?” Trixie asks.

Katya shrugs, “I’m not sure I can pinpoint it. It was something like, peace, I think. Just being content with exactly where I was at that moment, _how_ I was at the moment. It was really nice, but then it made me realize how long it had been since I felt like that. How different my life would be if I hadn’t been so wasteful of it.”

“Hey.” Trixie’s voice is soft as she moves even closer to Katya on the couch, angling herself to face Katya as she sits cross legged. One of her knees rests atop Katya’s thigh, right next to their joined hands. She takes one of her hands away to lift Katya’s chin back up and brush her hair from her eyes. “You made it here. You took some huge steps and cleared every hurdle in your way to get here. You can’t change how you got here, and maybe you wish it were different, but it happening like this…you proved to yourself how strong you are.” Katya is speechless and a little embarrassed, but she can’t tear her eyes from Trixie’s gaze, full of emotions Katya can’t pinpoint. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, Katya.”

The admission is so genuine, it makes Katya want to curl up against her and cry. It isn’t something Trixie is just saying to make her feel better, or even something she just realized as Katya was speaking. It sounds like something Trixie has believed from the very beginning, and Katya can feel the whole of it stirring in her chest and she’s glad she can. She’s never believed she was strong enough, not even now, but hearing Trixie say it like that makes her want to believe it. She thinks she might already. That maybe her strength and her faith in herself were just two more feelings that had drowned at the bottom of a bottle. She nods in response, unable to form real words just yet. Trixie smiles at her and pulls her into her arms. 

“I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Katya mumbles into her shoulder before pulling away, knowing that if she stays like that any longer, she’ll never want to move.

“We don’t have to keep talking about it,” Trixie tells her. “What you share and when you share it is up to you. I’m glad you told me, and I really am proud of you.” Katya nods. She doesn’t think she wants to talk about it anymore, especially since she’s shared the most relevant parts of it all. Anything else will come up in due time. For now, she just lets herself smile, grateful for Trixie’s kindness and to herself for finally opening up.

“I should have told you before. I meant to, but…”

“It’s okay. You told me when you were ready.” Katya nods. “At dinner with your parents, when they talked about you needing support…”

“This is what they meant, yeah,” Katya tells her. She looks away, fiddling with the fringe on the ugly throw blanket she has draped over the couch until Trixie takes her hand again.

“I’ll be part of that support for you. if you want me to be.” Her hand is warm against Katya’s, and her eyes even warmer when Katya meets her gaze. “I mean, I know we were putting on an act for your parents, but I did say I would be there for you,” she says. She looks away, shy, but she doesn’t let go of Katya’s hand. “I’d like to be.”

Katya’s heart thrums. She hears what Trixie is saying, but she can’t help but wonder if there’s a hidden layer beneath it all. It sounds like there could be, especially with the way Trixie’s thumb brushes against her fingers, the way she’s moved herself closer to Katya, the way she looks at her through her long lashes, her eyes dark and full of something Katya can’t put her finger on.

“I’d like that,” Katya finally says. She worries it isn’t a good enough answer, but Trixie smiles like it means the world. 

“Okay,” she says, promptly standing and taking their discarded mugs back to the kitchen.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Katya laughs. “I can clean up later.” But Trixie just grins at her, not listening. Katya smiles to herself, willing her brain not to dwell on how freaking _domestic_ it is, or the way Trixie has been looking at her since she got here. She can’t believe she ever wanted to have space from Trixie to work her feelings out. Right now, she feels like she can’t get close enough.

When Trixie comes back, she settles back where she was when she first sat down, and even though they aren’t _that_ far apart, Katya hates the distance that’s there. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” Katya finds herself suggesting, and Trixie lights up at the idea.

“Do you have popcorn?”

“I think so,” Katya says, standing to go check.

“No, no, I’ll get it. You go get your coziest blanket and pick out a movie.”

Katya can’t help but gasp, “You’re letting me pick the movie?” Trixie laughs like she doesn’t get it, and Katya realizes they’ve never talked about movies. She might as well take advantage of this moment, as it’ll likely be the first and _last_ time Trixie ever lets her choose. She puts in _Contact_ before Trixie even has the popcorn in the microwave.

They get settled in under what Katya deems her best blanket. It’s not the _softest_ material, nor is it the prettiest, but it _is_ cozy. Katya’s had it for years, and it’s never let her down. Until today.

“ _This_ is your best blanket?” Trixie says as she nestles herself underneath it next to Katya. They’re sitting so close that Katya almost misses the insult. “Next time you’ll have to come over to mine because I have better blankets.”

Katya rolls her eyes. “My blankets are fine,” she defends, though she has no doubt that Trixie’s are better and she hopes to confirm that one day. “And anyway, what if your roommate is having noisy sex again?”

Trixie shrugs nonchalantly. “I have a TV in my room,” she deadpans before breaking into a laugh at the expression on Katya’s face. “I’ll just bring my favorite blanket next time, how’s that?”

“Deal.”

Fifteen minutes into the movie, Trixie asks her _what in god’s name possessed you to pick_ this _movie of all movies_? But she leans further into Katya as she keeps watching. Her legs are curled up to the side, which means her knees are resting against Katya’s thighs. Her arms are wrapped around one of Katya’s, but they aren’t holding hands. Katya considers it for a moment before deciding to go for it. Their fingers interlace easily, and as they do, Trixie leans her head against Katya’s shoulder. It’s perfect.

Fortunately, Katya isn’t the kind of person who cares if someone loves or hates her favorite movie. She doesn’t take it personally that Trixie keeps rolling her eyes or sighing heavily when she thinks something is stupid, but she is definitely not going to let Trixie forget that she fell asleep. It’s the perfect leverage for any future movie night to watch Contact _again_.

She wants to wake Trixie up for the infamous beach scene, but she looks so peaceful and Katya can’t bring herself to rouse her. And anyway, she wouldn’t feel the weight of the moment’s impact since she missed most of the movie. She would be just as lost as Dr. Ellie Arroway herself.

When the credits roll, Katya shifts a little bit, hoping that subtle movements will wake Trixie all on their own. When they don’t, Katya smiles. She brushes Trixie’s hair back from her face, letting her fingers linger against Trixie’s warm cheek before softly saying her name until those beautiful brown eyes flutter open. She looks a little disoriented, but bounces back after blinking a few times. “I missed the movie?” Katya nods. “Good.”

Katya flails with silent laughter as Trixie stretches next to her, a smile creeping onto her face. Moments later, she resumes her prior position against Katya, only this time she drapes a hand over Katya’s lap. She yawns. “You can stay here tonight if you want to,” Katya offers.

She’s surprised when Trixie’s response is to pout. “I don’t want to sleep on your scratchy couch,” she whines. Katya thinks its endearing.

“You don’t have to. I’ll sleep on the couch.

Trixie pouts again, even more this time, before she tucks her head into the crook of Katya’s neck. “Why can’t we just share the bed?”

“Um,” Katya says, trying to fight the heat spreading through her body at the thought. She has no qualms about sharing a bed with Trixie, whether it be platonic or…otherwise, but she wants to be sure Trixie really is comfortable with that. “I can be a violent sleeper.”

When Trixie laughs, Katya can feel Trixie’s breath against her collarbone. It gives her goosebumps, and she hopes Trixie doesn’t notice them. “That’s sexy,” she says, but Katya is sure it’s a joke. 

“C’mon,” she says, easing Trixie off of her and taking her hands to pull her up from the couch. Trixie grumbles in protest. “Let’s go get ready for bed.”

With one of Trixie’s hands still in hers, she leads her across the apartment. There’s no reason why she still _needs_ to be holding Trixie’s hand—Trixie knows where the bed is, could see it from the couch, but Trixie refuses to let go, and Katya doesn’t mind in the slightest. She sits Trixie down, regarding her clothes. They aren’t exactly ideal sleepwear. “Let me get you something more comfy to wear,” she tells Trixie, having to drop her hand to find something. It’s the least ratty looking sleepshirt she has, one with their school’s logo that’s two sizes too big. 

“I got this from a freaking t-shirt gun when I started here. I didn’t even realize those were actually a thing,” she laughs, presenting the shirt to Trixie.

“Do you have makeup wipes or anything?” Trixie asks, taking the shirt with a smile. Katya nods and shows her where she keeps everything, including a new toothbrush from the pack she’s recently bought. She takes her own to the kitchen so she’ll be ready for bed whenever Trixie is. And anyway, she could use the distraction right about now.

When Trixie comes out of the bathroom, barefaced and beautiful, Katya is ready for bed, but she isn’t _ready_. Her heart full-on stalls when Trixie meets her eyes with a soft smile and makes her way to the bed, dropping her clothes off by her bag on the way over. Her hair falls in her face and she tucks it behind her ear. Katya is still staring, even when Trixie climbs into bed next to her.

“I’m a cuddler, is that okay?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Katya answers immediately, sounding way too eager for what any of this allows. She almost jokes and waves it off, thinking Trixie might just make fun of her for this and her greeting earlier since they go hand in hand, but she stops when she catches the blush on Trixie’s face. It’s more evident without the makeup, as are the faint freckles that trail beneath her eyes and over the bridge of her nose. She looks beautiful. “Wow,” Katya blurts.

“What?” Trixie laughs, her eyes wide as she looks over at Katya, who feels like she’s hanging in the balance. She could brush it off as nothing, or she could speak her mind. Telling Trixie she’s beautiful doesn’t feel like a far fetched step to take, given how everything is going. She imagines asking Violet what she would do, _just tell her, you big dummy_ , she can already hear her saying now, rolling her eyes at Katya for even _asking_ the question. 

“Nothing,” Katya starts, but then she makes a decision. “It’s just that… you look beautiful,” Katya tells her before she can think twice. Trixie’s blush deepens and her smile widens.

“Thanks,” Trixie says before adding, “I’m glad to know you have at least _some_ standard of beauty, you whore.”

Katya cracks up, grabbing Trixie’s arm as she wheezes. “You fucking bitch!”

Trixie chuckles, “Hey, you can’t blame me. That blanket is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I guess you don’t have a mirror at home then,” Katya retorts, and this time Trixie is the one screeching. The magic moment from before is broken, but something about being able to look back on it as its own isolated incident only makes it feel more real. Katya knew she wasn’t imagining it, though she still has her doubts and reservations.

When their laughter dies down, Katya leans over to turn the light out before settling down on the bed. She’s lying there like a vampire, on her back with her hands crossed over her chest, not wanting to invade Trixie’s space too much. She knows she’ll never fall asleep like that though, but she feels too hyper aware of everything around her to relax—the sound of her air conditioner as it stops running, the way the bed dips as Trixie gets comfortable next to her, the smell of Trixie’s hair blending with the smell Katya’s come to associate with her home, the sound of her own breathing in the new silence of the room.

Trixie scoots over to her, almost cautiously. Katya smiles at her in the dark, and even though she’s pretty sure Trixie can’t see it, she gets the idea anyway and scoots closer, putting an arm around Katya’s waist to snuggle her closer. “Do you really sleep on your back?”

“No,” Katya admits, laughing at her own expense. “I mean, I think I do some of the time, but I don’t ever _fall asleep_ on my back.”

“Get comfy then,” Trixie says, moving back enough for Katya to change positions. “Don’t let me stop you.” Katya debates what side she should roll over to before she settles on the side facing Trixie so she can wrap her arms around her, bury her face in her beautiful blonde hair. Trixie squeals, obviously delighted with Katya’s choice. She turns as well, immediately latching onto Katya’s arm as she embraces her.

Katya’s chest is filled with warmth as she presses herself impossibly close to Trixie, both from her body heat as well as her presence. It had been entirely too long since Katya had shared this kind of intimacy with anyone, and somehow it’s exactly what she needs.

She’s been so nervous about tonight, for reconciling her feelings for Trixie, for crossing any lines that Katya might have missed altogether, but lying here now, Trixie’s fingers lacing through hers as she holds Katya’s hand close to her heart, she feels like she can breathe again.

It’s the best sleep she’s gotten in weeks.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

_ “We're nothing less than a work in progress _

_ Sacred text on post it notes _

_ We only speak of a world in pieces _

_ Let's make a map of what matters most _

_ Where every fracture is a running river _

_ Leading us back to our golden coasts _

_ Here's to showing up” _

Ever since Trixie had stayed the night, things hadn’t been awkward between them, but they had certainly been  _ different _ . Katya hadn’t quite been able to figure it out.

They had woken up in a different position, impossibly tangled up together, Trixie holding tight to Katya like a sleepy, cuddly koala, her head buried in the curve of Katya’s neck. Katya could have lied there forever. She trailed her fingers up and down Trixie’s back, intoxicated by the fact that she  _ could _ , and eventually, Trixie hummed against her neck. “That feels nice,” she mumbled. Katya’s heart had skipped a beat.

Trixie was shy that morning, but despite that, everything felt so normal—like this was the way things were meant to be. Trixie stayed for breakfast, smiling the whole time. “I didn’t take you for much of a morning person,” Katya had told her, and Trixie blushed.

“I’m not,” she said, but Katya didn’t understand because that morning, Trixie had  _ glowed _ .

Since that morning, Trixie has remained just as bright. She beams at Katya whenever they meet up or run into each other, and sometimes goes so far as to skip towards her or initiate long, tight hugs, or even hold her hand. Katya doesn’t mind in the slightest, but she can’t help but wonder if they should talk about it.

It seems like the right thing to do.

So, naturally, she stays quiet.

.

.

.

With finals starting in the coming week, the coffee shop is as crowded as ever, and Trixie is already there when Katya arrives, waving her over to a table in the opposite corner from where they usually sit, but at a table just as small, and of course, no chair.

Katya squeezes in and immediately starts drinking the coffee Trixie had bought for her. “You know, maybe this place is conspiring against us, with the chair,” Katya jokes. She’s surprised when Trixie all but ignores her, clearly embarrassed. “You okay?” Trixie nods, but doesn’t look at her. Katya nudges her elbow. “Hey,” she prompts.

Finally Trixie shrugs, glancing briefly at Katya. “It was here when I sat down. But I told someone they could have it. Even though I knew you were coming.” She says it like she feels  _ bad _ , but she shouldn’t and Katya doesn’t want her to.

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s not like we ever use it.” Trixie gives her a look that Katya can’t decipher—almost a cross between curious and confused. “I wouldn’t have sat there anyway,” she adds, feeling Trixie relax next to her. She means it, but she doesn’t know how much Trixie takes from it. 

They work in silence for a while, and Katya tries to give 100% of her focus to her paper. Most of her time lately has been spent in the art building as she slaves away on her final projects for studio classes, so she really needs to make the most of this time for her other classes. She gets a solid amount of work in but loses focus as her mind wanders.  _ Summer break is coming up. _ She takes another few sip of her coffee, now cold, but she needs to focus. 

Katya types half a paragraph before her mind wanders again.  _ My birthday is after finals. Will Trixie still be here? _ She glances at Trixie out of the corner of her eye, typing with purpose. Katya is jealous of her work ethic and laser focus, but now isn’t the time to dwell on that. She already has enough going on. But she can’t focus. She wants to ask Trixie about summer break but doesn’t want to bring up home—something she knows Trixie has no interest in discussing. But at the same time, Katya knows she wants Trixie to be here for her birthday.

As do her parents, who haven’t shut up about dinner plans ever since the  _ last time _ they came for dinner. Realistically, Katya knows she should have already told Trixie, but since their whole situation was so precarious in the beginning (and precarious now in entirely different ways), it never felt like a good time. 

_ Like  _ now _ is _ , Katya thinks, scowling at her unfinished paper.

“Hey, what do you normally do for summer breaks?” 

At the question, Trixie immediately stops typing. She still looks concentrated when she looks over at Katya, a crease between her brows and an intense look in her eyes, and Katya thinks it’s adorable.

“I always stay here,” Trixie answers. “The first summer I stayed here I worked at that snow cone place, but last summer I worked retail at a makeup counter. This year I have an internship teaching music at a day camp for kids. That starts around mid may after all the schools let out.”

The answer makes Katya smile, in part because Trixie will be around for her birthday and also because she’s proud of her and excited for her, and she tells Trixie how much, and then says, “It really sounds amazing, Trix. You’re going to be amazing at that!”

“Thanks,” Trixie beams. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“As you should be! So, um,” Katya starts, diving right into her next topic before Trixie can ask about Katya’s own summer plans (the question would be futile anyway). “What are you doing on May 1st?”

Trixie laughs, almost a giggle, and the sound rings clear all the way through Katya’s nervous system. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.” She smiles at Katya as she leans in to knock their shoulders together. She had Trixie’s full attention already but now she can really see it in her eyes, final essays all but cast aside. “What’s so special about May 1st?”

“It’s my birthday. My parents are coming for dinner.”

“What!” Trixie shrieks, loud enough to get irritated glares from around the already loud coffee shop, and Katya jumps in alarm. The next time Trixie speaks, it’s quiet _ er _ but certainly not  _ quiet _ . “Your birthday is next week, and you didn’t even tell me?! I have to get you a present!”

“No, you don’t,” Katya tells her. She’s  _ serious _ , but it’s hard to let that show when all she can think is  _ Trixie wants to buy me a birthday present _ .

“Shut up, yes I do!” This time Katya doesn’t have the heart to fight her on it. “Of course I’ll go to dinner with you and your parents. I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” Trixie says, and Katya feels her words like a glow in her chest. “Your last exam is Thursday, right?” Katya nods. “Mine is on Friday. Maybe we can do something after that to celebrate, just the two of us.” Her words have only just left her mouth before Trixie suddenly freezes, blushing hard like she realizes what she just said and isn’t sure it was the right phrasing.

Katya wastes no time in assuring her with a grin. “I’d love that,” she says, relishing in the way Trixie’s face softens, but the blush doesn’t fade. “Maybe Saturday though? So you can have time to relax after exams. You know, just do whatever you want because you  _ can _ .”

At the suggestion, Trixie lights up even more. “It’s a date,” Trixie says, all signs of nervousness eradicated, and Katya’s heart somersaults in her chest.

.

.

.

The rest of the week is difficult, but not impossible. Katya actually thinks this year of finals is easier than previous years. Having gotten sober, her concentration has drastically improved, and the drive she thought was lost had returned at full strength. Not to mention, not having the  _ option _ to have a drink saved a lot of time, money, and energy. 

Katya had recognized so many benefits to her lifestyle change, but at this moment, it seemed to culminate, and she felt the weight of her improvement in full. She was so excited that she called her parents to tell them just how well she was doing. As always, they are proud and supportive, validating everything Katya had finally figured out on this journey to sobriety, and as always, they want to talk about Trixie. 

Most questions, Katya answers with ease. They wonder how her finals are going and what her summer plans are and if she will be going to dinner with them for Katya’s birthday. Katya always loves having the opportunity to brag about Trixie, and this time is no exception, but something about it feels different. 

In general, it feels like the weight of their relationship has shifted. Before it was easy in the way any friendship is. They would make jokes about being fake girlfriends all the time and the only person who thought it was weird was  _ Violet _ , but now it feels like uncharted territory or something they can’t make jokes about. The space where the jokes should be are filled with a silence that isn’t quite awkward, but isn’t normal either. It’s a moment that hovers until someone breaks it by looking away or saying something off topic—it’s a space that should be filled by something, though Katya doesn’t know what.

A week after Trixie spent the night, Katya explained it to Fame, who explained it as a  _ transitional phenomenon _ . “Do you remember when you quit drinking and it would feel like something was missing? Like you were forgetting something or that there was something you needed to do?”

Katya nodded. “I always hated that feeling. It made me want to drink, just to fill the space. But I guess that’s what was missing right?”

“Yes. So you figured out how to fill the space with what you cut out. Transitions sometimes leave spaces like that.”

“But there isn’t a transition with me and Trixie.” Fame only smirked at her. “Right?”

“In the words of my girlfriend,  _ stop being a dumbass _ .”

Katya had been thinking about  _ transition  _ ever since, and she’s thinking about it now as she talks to her parents. The mystery space that shows itself between her and Trixie is showing itself here too, only in this conversation, with the people who know Trixie to be Katya’s  _ girlfriend _ , she has no choice but to face it head on. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks.

The transition is  _ friends _ to  _ more than _ . The transition is from  _ fake dating _ to  _ real dating _ . Katya doesn’t know how she didn’t make the connection before, although she wagers it had a lot to do with her anxiety. She didn’t want to be  _ real rejected _ when asking for a  _ real relationship _ , but if the whole dynamic has changed, that means it can’t be one sided, and  _ that _ makes her confident and giddy.

One of her favorite things about not drinking anymore is having emotions like this feel all encompassing. It’s a natural high she can’t get enough of, and she’s glad it isn’t getting dampened down by anything. She’s so happy about it that she tells her parents this too, of course, leaving out the cause of it all.

They close the conversation by reminding her how happy her health and joy makes them. “We always knew you could do it, Katya. We couldn’t be more proud of you,” her father says, and Katya grins into the phone. They tell her they can’t wait to see Trixie before they send their love and end the call.

She calls Fame next, and she texts Trixie more than one message of encouragement for her exams today, not bothering to shy away from using the more  _ flirty  _ emojis. Kissy faces and hearts (the red ones of course) and even a gif of a cheerleader blowing a kiss.

The rest of the week goes by smoothly. Katya finishes her art projects in time, almost doesn’t finish one of her papers but manages to score a few extra hours by turning in another one early. All in all, she crushes her exams, and rewards herself with candy and tea and the promise of a date this weekend with Trixie.

On Friday evening, she receives several texts from Trixie. The first is about her survival of exams, which Katya applauds her on. The next two are both picture messages, one is a picture of Trixie’s long, smooth legs peeking through a bubble bath that can only be described as  _ luxurious _ , and the other is a selfie, with Trixie’s shoulders exposed and just a hint of cleavage uncovered by pink bubbles. Katya responds, telling Trixie that she’s glad she’s able to relax, that she’s jealous of such a wonderful looking bath, and that she’s gorgeous. She tops it all off with a selfie of her own, posing on her couch like a mangled corpse.

Later in the evening, Trixie texts again, this time about their date tomorrow with more specific instructions. Those specific instructions being:  _ i have everything planned. all you need to worry about is looking nice, not that it’ll be difficult for you because you always look good. i’ll pick you up at 6:30. be ready!! _

Katya reads the message ten times over, but mostly just the part that says she always looks good. She isn’t exactly sure what kind of attire she needs to wear for wherever it is they’re going, but she spends too much time going through her closet anyway trying to settle on something that is versatile enough to be worn to different events or occasions, and also something she looks good in. But then she second guesses herself and doubts she even owns anything suitable enough

So she calls Violet, who tells her  _ just wear that one pantsuit, it makes you look hot, right babe? See even Fame agrees _ . Katya sets it aside, thanking Violet and Fame before making herself some tea and settling in for the night, anxious and ready for tomorrow night.

.

.

.

The next day, Katya gets ready early enough that she won’t worry about being late. She knows how punctual Trixie is, and the thought of running behind, letting her down, and potentially messing up what she has planned is devastating. So at six o’clock sharp, Katya is dressed and ready, nervously wringing her hands as she tries to relax on the couch.

She stands up the second that there’s a knock at the door, and she opens it immediately, not thinking about how manic the promptness seems. But Trixie laughs, clearly endeared by Katya’s nervous enthusiasm. “You look amazing, Katya,” Trixie tells her, still smiling. 

It’s then that Katya takes in the sight before her. If Katya looks amazing, then Trixie is a  _ goddess _ . Her dress is powder pink and short, coming down to her mid thighs, and it’s made of a soft kind of fluffy material that would look juvenile on the wrong person, but this dress was practically made for Trixie and she looks sexy. Katya is stunned silent, her jaw slack as she stares unabashedly at the cut of the dress, particularly the way it accentuates her chest.

Trixie laughs at her again, thrilled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Are you almost ready?”

“Um, yeah,” Katya says, finally pulling herself together before grabbing the essentials (phone, keys, wallet) and stuffing them into the pockets of her pantsuit, immensely grateful that they’re  _ real _ pockets and not whatever the female fashion industry tries to pass off as pockets. She locks the door behind her and as she and Trixie leave the building, everything is quiet. It dawns very suddenly on Katya that  _ it’s starting we’re going on a date  _ Trixie _ is taking me on a date _ , and she feels her heart rate picking up. 

Trixie reaches over and takes her hand, and the panic (the good, the bad, and the gay) all smoothen out as their fingers intertwine.

“You look gorgeous, by the way,” Katya tells Trixie, trying to make up for her previous fumble.

“I know,” Trixie says, and Katya wheezes. Trixie smiles down at her, pleased with the outburst. “You know, we probably look so weird to other people right now. We look like we’re going to two completely different events,” she says, gesturing between them. She’s right. Between Trixie in her soft pink princess dress and Katya in her sharp, deep red pantsuit, they couldn’t be less coordinated. That sets them both off again into a fit of laughter.

When they’ve settled down enough to resume the walk, Katya admits, “I like that though. You see all these couples dressed up and color coordinated like high school sweethearts or something. It’s cliche. We’re  _ rebellious _ .” Katya panics only slightly when she realizes she used the word  _ couple _ , which isn’t exactly something they are, at least not yet. 

If Trixie thought anything of it, she doesn’t voice it, and instead she jokes, “You would think that with all our fake dating experience we would be a little better at putting up a perfect act.” Katya hums. She wants to say that maybe it’s because they aren’t acting anymore, but the words feel too heavy for the moment. “This is perfect though, I think,” Trixie adds, softer, almost hesitant.

“Me too,” Katya agrees. They fall into silence as Trixie leads Katya to their destination, of which Katya is still in the dark about. She isn’t surprised when they end up at a nice restaurant a few blocks away, but she  _ is _ surprised when Trixie tells her how she found it. 

It’s when they’ve sat down, after Trixie gives their name at the door and they’re led upstairs to a balcony overlooking the river. The sun is low enough that the first hints of sunset are tinting the sky pink, and for the second time tonight, Katya is speechless.

“Remember that place your parents took us? This restaurant is owned by the same people,” Trixie tells her. “I was planning on us going there, because I wanted this to be really special, but the other restaurant doesn’t do reservations. I understood but was bummed of course, so I asked if there were any exceptions, and explained that I was planning the perfect date for the perfect woman, who up until now I’ve been fake dating,” Trixie blushes but otherwise doesn’t elaborate on the implication of  _ up until now _ . “The owner told me about this other restaurant of theirs that was pricier but had a balcony and accepted reservations. She said, and I quote,  _ my wife and I will be happy to hook you up _ . And here we are,” Trixie finishes, gesturing around them. She looks proud of herself, and she should be.

The sun is setting and the sky is brighter than before, it’s breathtaking against the fluffy clouds in the sky, and with that as well as the soft smile Trixie is giving her, Katya can practically feel her heart turning into a melty lump in her chest. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble for me.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. And besides, I wanted to. You deserve a special night like this,” Trixie assures her. 

Katya smiles at her, but can’t take her eyes off the sunset. She feels Trixie’s eyes on her still, and it makes her giddy. “You’re missing it!” Katya says, meeting Trixie’s eyes. She blushes and opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Just as Katya looks back at the sunset, thinking about how perfect this moment is, their server arrives to introduce himself and starts them off with water and bread for the table. Katya is so happy and distracted that she almost doesn’t notice the server offering them complimentary wine.

It’s in that same moment that Katya turns and sees it that she realizes she doesn’t care. She doesn’t even want it. This is the clearest she’s felt in months, the happiest, the most secure, the most fulfilled. She’s  _ okay _ . She already has everything she needs right here.

Trixie declines for them both, but Katya interrupts her, telling the server, “She’ll have a glass. If you’d like,” she adds, this time to Trixie. Trixie looks surprised, but she nods. As he pours Trixie’s wine, Katya orders herself green tea. Neither of them say anything else until he leaves, but as soon as he does, Katya leans towards Trixie to excitedly tell her about the revelation she just had about how she didn’t even  _ think _ about alcohol as an option, and when it was presented to her, she realized she really didn’t want it anyway. “I knew this would be a point I would get to one day, but I didn’t realize how awesome it would be. And even though it’s been building up little by little, it feels like the kind of progress that happened all at once.”

Trixie beams at her, as their server drops off Katya’s green tea and as they’re left alone once again, the sky growing dim as the sun starts to disappear even more. “I’m really proud of you, Katya. It’s amazing that you get to have moments like this, validating everything you’ve worked for, and I’m really happy that I get to be here to experience these moments with you.”

“I am, too,” Katya says.  _ More than you know _ , she thinks, and to her surprise, she’s suddenly struck with the desire to elaborate. “Actually, it’s bigger than this moment,” she starts, forcing herself to meet Trixie’s gaze even though she’s so nervous that her heart is threatening to burst right out of her ribcage. “I noticed it a while back, before we even talked about alcohol, but I realized that spending time with you, talking to you, and just being around you made me feel grounded. Safe, in a way. I never thought about drinking when you were around because just having you there was enough for me. You really changed my life, Trixie.”

Katya can’t help the deep blush that spreads across her face having admitted that outloud. She can’t help but be a little embarrassed, even though she meant every word. Halfway through her speech, she’d looked away from Trixie, having suddenly become hyper aware of how serious and honest her revelation was, and she takes a few steady breaths before looking back up.

Trixie has been silent since Katya stopped talking, but she’s still looking at Katya and their eyes meet again easily. The emotion on her usual hard to read expression is now clear as day—stunned, charmed, moonstruck. Katya is desperate to know what’s going on in Trixie’s mind, so she asks her. “What are you thinking about?”

Trixie doesn’t answer right away, instead continuing to look on at Katya in awe. When she speaks, it’s soft yet strong, only a little unsure, and it turns Katya to jelly. “You really feel that way?”

“Of course,” Katya assures with no hesitation. Trixie’s eyes widen infinitesimally, and Katya feels the need to clarify. “But I mean, it’s not like I’m fully relying on you or anything. I don’t want it to sound like…” Katya trails off, suddenly unsure how to put this into words, or even if she should have to begin with. It might not have come across that way at all, and maybe now that she’s brought it up, it’s muddling the whole thing. But she takes a slow breath, reminding herself that this is  _ Trixie _ , and it’s going to be okay regardless. Trixie will understand what she’s saying and she won’t twist Katya’s words any which way. “I know that I would have reached this point eventually, even without you in my life, but having you around helped me get there faster—helped me realize what I  _ could _ have, even if I couldn’t have alcohol.”

At Katya’s admission (which she thinks she explained as well as she possibly could have), Trixie almost looks like she could cry. Katya smiles at her as she picks up her mug of tea and holds it up, nodding to Trixie’s glass of wine. “Come on,” she teases, “don’t leave a girl hanging.”

Trixie’s eyes are bright as she clinks her glass against Katya’s, but she doesn’t look any less serious. She doesn’t take a sip of the wine right away. “I don’t mean to make a big deal about it or dismiss anything you just said, but you’re sure this is okay?”

“I’m positive. If anything ever isn’t, I promise I’m going to let you know, so you don’t need to worry.” Trixie nods, and Katya knows just by the look on her face that she believes her. 

“Katya,” Trixie suddenly says, gently taking Katya’s hand across the table. “I just want to say one more thing.” She waits for Katya to nod in approval before she continues. “I trust you, I’m proud of you, and I’m so fucking grateful for you.” Her words are intense but her voice is kind and full of an emotion Katya can’t quite put her finger on. For a moment they just stare at each other, Trixie’s thumb brushing strokes against Katya’s hand, and the moment feels so  _ full _ Katya feels like her chest might explode. Trixie must feel the same because she shatters the moment by saying, “Now drink your green tea, drunkie.”

Katya screeches. “You fucking bitch!” She laughs at her own expense, noting that with anyone else, that comment would have rubbed her the wrong way. But with Trixie, she’s unaffected, and if anything, she’s grateful that her history of addiction can be joked about. One of her least favorite things about revealing this part of herself was the way it always seemed like such a somber affair, with pity and uneasy glances. She didn’t think of her recovery in such a way, and she never wanted to. Once again, it’s impossible not to recognize the way she likes the way her life looks with Trixie by her side.

Dinner is even better than Katya could have hoped, which is saying something considering how much she’d been looking forward to it. The food is delicious of course, but Katya’s favorite part, without a doubt, is Trixie.

She had forewarned Katya at the beginning of the meal that since she doesn’t drink often, she’s kind of a lightweight and might  _ get kind of weird _ , which of course could have meant anything. Katya comes to find out that  _ weird _ means  _ giggly _ and  _ touchy feely _ and downright fucking  _ adorable _ . The wine makes the tip of her nose pink, and Katya has to actively fight the urge to lean over and kiss it.

“You’re cute,” Katya says instead, relishing in the flush on Trixie’s cheeks, the smile at her lips that hasn’t gone away all evening. Katya wants to keep it there forever.

After they’ve eaten, Trixie pouts, her eyes locked on Katya’s across the table. She’s had almost two glasses of wine but has now lost interest in whatever remains. “What?” Katya laughs.

“You’re too far away,” Trixie tells her, putting her head in her hands like the situation is completely hopeless and has no possible solution, when in fact, all she would need to do is move her chair over to Katya’s side of the table.

“Come over here then,” Katya suggests, a teasing smile at her lips. Trixie looks back at her, pout still firmly in place. Not only is she not appeased by Katya’s brilliant idea, but she also looks even grumpier.

“I can’t move,” she says. “Too much food.” Katya laughs and Trixie crosses her arms over her chest. “And anyway, I’m not coming over there if you’re just going to make fun of me.”

Katya rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop smiling. “You’re such a brat,” she tells Trixie as she moves her own chair to the other side. She’s hardly settled back into the seat before Trixie’s mood flips, all traces of the pout gone. “See? Brat confirmed. You’re only happy when you get your way.”

“You’re one to talk,” Trixie says as she loops her arm around Katya’s and locks their fingers together. She nuzzles her head against Katya’s shoulder and hugs her whole arm against her. She doesn’t seem ashamed, but she apologizes anyway. “I know I can be a lot sometimes. Some might even say  _ too much _ .”

“No kidding,” Katya laughs. “People say that? I can’t imagine why.”

Trixie lifts her head back up, but keeps Katya close as she screams with laughter. “Fuck off.” 

“You absolutely _are_ too much,” Katya tells her. “But I don’t mind.”

When their server returns with the check, Katya reaches to take it, but Trixie reaches over her and snatches it before she can. It catches Katya off guard, and she makes every attempt to take it back, grumbling when Trixie sits on the check book and bans her to the side of the table from which she came, refusing to pull the book back out until she’s a safe distance away.

“It’s my treat,” Trixie tells her, and this time, it’s Katya’s turn to pout. Trixie giggles at her. “You’re adorable, but so so stupid. It’s  _ your _ birthday, remember?” Katya sighs and relents. “You can pay next time,” Trixie says, and the promise of  _ next time _ occupies Katya’s thoughts until they’re leaving the restaurant.

Trixie is still tipsy from dinner as they make their way back, and Katya can’t help but feel buzzed as well. Not on alcohol of course, but on the crisp spring air, on Trixie, on life. Everything feels clear and hopeful, and where Katya one day thought she would be full of regret for everything she had let herself become, she feels nothing but anticipation for whatever comes next.

The route they take on the way home is different from the path they took to get there, and Katya gets the idea that Trixie had planned it this way. Her hand slips into Katya’s as she leads her through a park—the kind of picturesque place you happen across by accident. The path is lit with white iron path lights that give the surrounding flowers an almost supernatural glow, and Katya stops in her tracks. She’s tugged forward a little in the step Trixie takes without her, but their hands stay connected, and Trixie turns to face her with a bright smile and even brighter eyes.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Katya says, and she hopes it doesn’t sound as lame as she thinks it does. “Tonight has been so wonderful, Trixie. I mean that.”

“It’s not over,” Trixie reminds her with a mischievous smile. Katya wants to kiss her, but she doesn’t want to interrupt anything else Trixie might have planned, so she holds back. “Come on,” Trixie says taking a step backwards and pulling Katya along. “We have to stop by my apartment first.” Katya quirks a brow. “I need to pick up my blanket because yours is garbage.” Katya fake pouts and Trixie’s eyes flicker down and linger there even when she adds, “All my stuff is there anyways.”

The air between them feels different as they complete the short walk and enter Trixie’s apartment—more charged. There’s a new level of anticipation stirring within Katya that would normally set her on edge, but instead she relishes the feeling. She’s thrilled.

“Wait here,” Trixie tells her when they’re standing in the living room. She turns and heads into a hallway and then into a door that Katya can only assume is Trixie’s bedroom. She wonders if she’ll get to see it one day.

Overall, Trixie’s apartment looks nothing like what she expected. It isn’t anything special, and there aren’t a lot of elaborate decorations in sight, which makes sense given that two college students live here. Like her own studio, most of this stuff was probably bought on sales or at thrift stores, and clearly picked out by both residents, but still, there are elements that are undeniably Trixie. A coffee table painted light pink, one pink curtain opposite a darker one. The whole room is the epitome of compromise.

Before Trixie returns, the front door opens and Katya turns in time to see a bored looking girl walking in, throwing her keys haphazardly on the kitchen counter and dropping her bag in the middle of the floor before she sees Katya. “Oh hey,” she says, like she’s known Katya for years. “I’m Pearl,” she introduces.

“Katya.”

Pearl hums and fails to hide a smirk. “I see. Makes sense.” Katya doesn’t know what to say to that so she just nods. “Trixie tells me she’s got some big plans for tonight,” Pearl says, winking.

Katya doesn’t have time to respond before Trixie is back in the room, dropping her bookbag on the floor next to her ukulele case. “Pearl, what the fuck, I thought you were staying with whatsherface?”

“And I thought you weren’t going to be here?” Pearl retorts, still smirking.

“We’re leaving in a second. I just need to grab the blanket. You better not say anything embarrassing in the two seconds I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry, Trix, I already did.”

“You’re the worst,” Trixie tells her, but she’s smiling. “Katya, don’t listen to anything she says. I’ll be right back.” She races down the hall, and Katya takes the opportunity to pick up Trixie’s bookbag and ukulele case so she won’t have to carry them herself.

“Have fun tonight,” Pearl says when Trixie comes back, winking at them. Trixie groans and turns Katya away. 

“Bye, Pearl!” Trixie calls over her shoulder and lets the door close behind her before Pearl can say anything else. Or at least before they can  _ hear _ her say anything else.

On their final walk of the evening, they don’t hold hands. Between the ukulele and the fluffy blanket Trixie has to carry in both her arms, it isn’t convenient. The charge between them remains as strong as it had before, jolting whenever their arms brush or when they make eye contact. “So what else do you have planned,” Katya asks, just to say something. She doubts Trixie is going to tell her anything.

“You’ll see,” she answers, and like Katya suspected she adds, “I don’t want to ruin all the surprises.” She smiles over at Katya before looking down at the blanket, which is so soft that it’s threatening to slip in on itself and slide right out of Trixie’s arms. She readjusts it so that it’s more secure, and Katya can’t help but notice that it’s red. She wouldn’t have guessed that Trixie would be the kind to have a red blanket, but she doesn’t question it.

As soon as they cross the threshold of Katya’s apartment, everything feels like it speeds up. Trixie takes her stuff from Katya and sets it by the front door, but takes the blanket to the couch. She tells Katya to make herself comfortable while she gets everything ready. For a moment, Katya just stands there awkwardly. Normally the first thing she would do to make herself comfortable is to strip and change into boxers and a giant t-shirt, but she would feel weird doing so and leaving Trixie all dressed up, but then Trixie says, “Just do it! It’s your birthday,” like she knew exactly what was going on in Katya’s mind.

“Do you want a change of clothes?” Katya asks before turning to her dresser. 

Trixie grins at her over the island counter. “Yes, please,” she says, and Katya’s heart flips as she wonders if this was part of the plan. Trixie could have easily brought clothes from her apartment, but she didn’t. Is it because she didn’t plan on staying all night or because she wanted to borrow Katya’s clothes? Either way, Katya is more than happy to share. She loves the level of intimacy that exists through sharing clothes—something so innocent and yet so tantalizing, full of potential.

Katya changes in the bathroom at Trixie’s instruction (“I have to set up some things out here,” she said), and when she’s out, her apartment is lit with candles in every space a candle could safely be put, which isn’t many, but it still makes Katya smile. There’s music playing that she recognizes, but doesn’t know how Trixie would. It’s Russian.

“I found this playlist the other day and thought it sounded really good. I wasn’t sure who your favorite Russian artists were. We can change it though, if you want,” Trixie says to her from the kitchen.

Katya shakes her head, assuring Trixie, “No this is great, thank you.” She hesitates for a moment before asking, “Am I allowed to come in there?” 

“Nope. Go sit on the couch,” Trixie says.

“Fine,” Katya groans, but has no trouble complying, especially when she curls up under Trixie’s blanket. It really does make her own feel (and look) rough. Or like Trixie told her before,  _ I’d say you should just give it back to the grandma you stole it from, but she’s probably relieved to never have to see it again _ . “I left some clothes for you in the bathroom.”

“Thanks,” Trixie says, finally leaving the kitchen. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare peek.” Katya nods, but she doesn’t know if Trixie was referring to whatever she has ready in the kitchen or to herself as she changes in the bathroom, conveniently leaving the door cracked open just enough for Katya to peek if she wanted to. But she doesn’t—not at Trixie and not at the kitchen. She’d left a few options in there for Trixie, wanting her to be comfortable, and she’s interested to see what she picks to wear, regardless, Katya is already anticipating becoming a puddle on the floor.

Trixie changes in a quicker time than Katya had, either out of anticipation to show what she’s planned or for fear that Katya’s curiosity will win over her patience, but whichever the case, she’s smiling when she exits the bathroom, almost shy. She’s wearing an old shirt from a summer camp Katya had attended back in middle school. The shirt swallowed her then, swallows her now, and is big enough on Trixie that she almost doesn’t need pants but still small enough that when she walks past Katya, the underside of her ass cheeks peeks out from the rim of the shirt. Katya’s mouth waters.

She returns with two mugs of tea, and passes one to Katya and sets the other on her coffee table before turning to her ukulele case. She pulls it out and looks back at Katya, watching her with the mug in her lap. “It should be cool enough to drink,” she says, seemingly invested in Katya drinking the tea. So she does.

The smell is achingly familiar, but she doesn’t place the kind of tea Trixie prepared for her until she takes a sip.  _ Russian caravan.  _ She’s so surprised, she almost spits it out. “Oh my god, Trixie! Where did you find this?” she asks before taking another sip. Trixie looks proud of herself, as she should.

“Everyone deserves to drink something special on their birthday, you know, and especially since this is your first adult birthday without what society has dubbed the ultimate special occasion drink, I tried to find something that would be perfect for the occasion. I found this little Russian store, and the owner suggested this brand. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Katya says. Her tea is more than half gone, and she shows Trixie, who laughs. “Thank you.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Trixie says. “But first…” She sets her ukulele down and goes back into the kitchen. “Close your eyes, okay?” Katya doesn’t want to look away from Trixie, but she does as she’s told, setting her mug to the side. It feels like her eyes have been closed forever before she hears Trixie walking back. “Keep your eyes closed. I’m going to hand you something, but you have to be careful,” she says, taking one of Katya’s hands in hers and lifting it to take what she’s holding out. It feels like a small plate, and Katya has to fight a smile as Trixie brings her other hand up so that she’s holding it sturdy. She doesn’t drop her own hands until she’s sure that Katya’s got it. Katya feels movement across from her as Trixie gets situated on the couch, and she keeps her eyes shut tight until Trixie says, “Okay, you can open them now.”

As she opens her eyes, the strum of Trixie’s ukulele spreads through the room as she starts playing  _ Happy Birthday _ . She beams at Katya before she starts to sing, and Katya is mesmerized and flattered, and as she watches Trixie singing for her, she thinks this may be the best birthday she’s ever had. She almost forgets she’s holding something until Trixie finishes singing, but keeps strumming. “Go on, make a wish or something.”

“Or something?” Katya laughs. “Should I make a curse instead?”

Trixie screams, ceasing the song as she does, but picking back up when she recovers. “Only if it involves my music theory professor deciding not to teach MUSC 507 next semester.”

“Done,” Katya says, blowing out the single candle on the cupcake Trixie had brought her. “Where’s yours? Katya asks, pulling the candle out and licking off the residue icing. Trixie shrugs in such a way that says there’s only one cupcake. “We’ll share,” she decides, setting the plate down so she can take off the wrapper. Trixie only protests once before offering to grab a knife to cut it in half.

The inside is rainbow, and Katya hums in approval. “Very nice. Very gay,” she comments.

“It was the obvious choice,” Trixie says, washing the cupcake down with her tea. Katya only has to wonder for a moment if she made herself some of the Russian caravan as well. “This is really good. If anything good came out of meeting you, it’s definitely getting to try this weird Russian tea,” she says, and Katya wheezes, lightly smacking Trixie in the arm. “Oh, and of course the weird Russian music,” she adds. 

“You fucking bitch! You picked it out,” she laughs. What she doesn’t tell Trixie is that half of these songs are love songs, and would definitely feel like an intentional choice had Trixie known Russian. But then again, maybe she knew what she was getting into. The playlist could easily be called  _ Russian Love Songs _ .

“So, presents?” Trixie prompts the second after Katya finishes her half of the cupcake.

“Um, obviously,” Katya says, noticing for the first time the two small wrapped packages on the table. She’d been too distracted by the candles to notice. “You know, you’ve really set up a real fire hazard in here,” she jokes. Trixie blushes. 

“They’re for  _ ambiance _ ,” she insists. “We don’t have to keep them lit if you’re worried.”

Katya laughs, “This place burning down would be the least of my problems. They’re fine.” She reaches over and picks up both the gifts. She can’t tell what either is by holding them and that only makes her more excited. “Which should I open first?”

“This one,” Trixie says, almost before Katya’s even finished asking and taps the smaller of the two boxes. She shrugs when she sees the amused look Katya gives her. “What can I say? I’m a planner.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Katya says, wasting no more time as she rips the paper off to reveal a tiny box. Inside, swaddled in tissue paper is a USB drive with a tag that reads  _ Not Your Fake Girlfriend’s Mixtape _ . It’s the best thing Katya’s ever seen and she grabs Trixie’s arm in her flailing excitement.

Trixie grins and laughs with her, but she’s blushing again. “It’s actually not a normal mix though. It’s covers.” Katya stops and stares at Trixie. She thinks she has an idea of the kinds of covers Trixie might be referring to, but she doesn’t have any confirmation until Trixie says, “By me. I recorded them in the music building. They have a recording space but it’s not that high tech so—”

“I don’t care!” Katya cuts her off, “This is amazing, Trixie. I can’t wait to listen to them. I’d say we could now, but I don’t know if you—”

“Yeah, let’s not,” Trixie laughs. She ducks her head, but Katya reassures her that she’s sure they sound wonderful. “I’m not embarrassed or anything, it’s just…” she trails off, waving her hands almost dismissively. “It would be fine to listen to it now, but better if you waited,” she elaborates with a final nod, and even though Katya isn’t sure what she’s getting at, she has a pretty good idea. “Number two,” Trixie says, tapping the other box Katya had picked off the table. 

It’s roughly the same size as the other, only shaped differently. She shakes it next to her ear and Trixie rolls her eyes. “What? I’m gathering intel for clues.”

“Or you could just open it and see what it is,” Trixie laughs.

Katya wastes no time ripping the paper off, (she’s never understood why people try to remove the paper carefully so as not to tear it), revealing a small box that she feels almost certain contains a piece of jewelry. Her suspicions are proved correct when she lifts the lid to reveal a blood red anatomical heart. It’s made of glass and it’s attached to a long black chain, and it’s perhaps one of the greatest things Katya has ever seen. She’s stunned speechless until she remembers Trixie is watching her, probably waiting on some kind of reaction from her. She’s worried for a moment that she should have said something already, but when she looks up, Trixie is grinning ear to ear.

“Do you like it?”

“I fucking love it,” Katya says, her on smile matching Trixie’s. “You did such a great job with gifts. Maybe better than anyone else ever has,” she says with a lighthearted chuckle. No one has ever been terrible at picking out gifts for her, but Trixie’s gifts feel like they’re on a whole new level. They mean more to Katya than words could ever properly explain.

“Those aren’t the only presents,” Trixie tells her, giddy with anticipation of whatever is coming next. Katya thinks she’s just as excited as Katya is, if not  _ more _ . Katya looks blankly around when Trixie doesn’t move or reach for anything, and she frowns when she can’t figure it out. Trixie on the other hand is practically bouncing on the couch. Katya’s brow creases as their eyes meet, and Trixie makes a pointed glance at the fuzzy, red blanket draped over her lap. She gets it, and gasps in surprise as she does. Honestly she isn’t sure how she didn’t put two and two together sooner. 

“This is for me?” she asks, running her hands over the soft, plush fabric before bringing it up to her face. It smells like Trixie.

“It’s all yours,” Trixie beams. “There wasn’t a discreet way to wrap it and get it up here so I just acted like it was mine so you wouldn’t be suspicious.”

“Well I  _ was _ suspicious,” Katya laughs. “This blanket is red.”

Trixie shrugs, “I tried, okay? But anyways, it’s exactly like mine, so I know it’s good.” Katya raises her eyebrows and Trixie shrikes. “It’s exactly like mine but  _ it’s red instead of pink _ . There, I said it. Happy?”

“Very,” Katya tells her, wrapped up in the blanket. “I really love it. It’s very cozy, and it’s my favorite color! This might actually be the brightest thing in my apartment now.”

“Other than your teeth,” Trixie says, screaming at her own joke while Katya falls into a fit of wheezing laughter. Katya loves the way they are together in moments like this. “Let’s see how it looks on your bed,” Trixie says, so casually that it almost gives Katya whiplash, and before she knows it, Trixie is carrying the blanket across the room and throwing it over her bed, spread out as much as possible. It definitely brightens up the room, but Katya is too busy admiring Trixie to really notice. She’s standing back, hands on her hips as if admiring her handiwork, and Katya has to fight herself not to wrap her arms around Trixie from behind and nuzzle into the crook of her neck.

Instead she leaps on the bed like a starfish, relishing the way her dramatic action makes Trixie laugh. “I never knew my bed could be so comfortable,” she says, which only adds to Trixie’s amusement. She rolls to one side and motions for Trixie to join her. “You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced this,” she tells her.

“Is that so?” Trixie asks, her eyebrow raised in challenge as she climbs onto the bed, crawling up from the foot of the bed and slowly lowering herself to face Katya. It’s unbelievably sexy, and Katya swallows hard. They’re lying close enough to reach for each other, but not close enough to lean in for a kiss, though something in the air leads Katya to believe that wouldn’t be so far fetched. It’s tense—not in a way that makes things uncomfortable, but in a way that feels like something is about to shatter, allowing room for  _ more _ . 

The silence is heavy, and Katya isn’t sure her voice is going to function properly when she speaks, but she tries anyway. “Thank you,” she starts, relieved that her voice sounds fine, “for everything. Today has been perfect.” It’s such a simple statement, but it’s true. She hopes it’s enough.

“You’re perfect,” Trixie says, her voice nearly a whisper. “You deserve it, you know.” Katya wants to say something, but the way Trixie is looking at her takes her breath away. The silence returns, still heavy, but peaceful. Katya is aware of every sound around them: the music still wafting gently through the room, the hum of the air conditioner, the steady tones of her own breathing, the slight creak of the bed as Trixie scoots closer to her.

They’re so close now that parts of then are touching—Trixie’s elbow against Katya’s wrist, their knees brushing together. Trixie lifts her hand to stroke Katya’s hair, and Katya’s breath hitches audibly. She thinks Trixie is going to pull away, but to her surprise, she doesn’t. Her hand traces across Katya’s cheek and against the soft skin of her neck, down her arm and back up again, leaving goosebumps in her wake. Katya feels like her brain is moving in slow motion, but it also seems like Trixie is taking her time, relishing in the effect her touches have on Katya.

Her fingertips graze Katya’s jawline before she hesitantly drops her hand. The contact between them isn’t lost as her fingers rest against the arm Katya has half hidden beneath the pillow. Her eyes linger on Katya’s lips for a long time before she looks back up. “I have one more present,” Trixie tells her. “But if you don’t want it, that’s okay.”

Katya has all but forgotten how to breathe. “What is it?”

Trixie’s eyes are back on her lips, and her hand is ghosting over her neck again. Katya shivers at the softness of the touch. “I’d really like to kiss you. If you’re okay with that,” she says, her fingertips ghost back down Katya’s jaw, but this time they trace over her lips. Katya can’t believe this is happening. “I’ve been thinking about it for months, and I think you have too.” Katya’s lips part just slightly under Trixie’s fingers, but she can’t seem to make them form words even after Trixie’s hand has settled, soft at her jawline. “Am I right?”

In answer, Katya wraps her free arm around Trixie and brings their bodies flush against each other in one swift motion. Trixie gasps at the suddenness of the movement, but adapts easily to their proximity as she grips Katya’s arm. Katya’s hand is pressed against the small of Trixie’s back, and even with that contact and their bodies pressed together, Katya doesn’t feel like it’s enough and she moves her other hand from underneath her to cradle Trixie’s face instead, her thumb gently stroking along the length of her cheekbone

While the actions obviously speak for themselves, Katya wants to say something, and when she does, Trixie’s eyes meet hers again, big and bright. “You’re so fucking incredible, Trixie Mattel,” Katya tells her, noting the deep pink blush that graces Trixie’s features, the way her eyes remain steady on Katya’s, growing brighter with her smile. “I would have kissed you the day we met if you had asked,” Katya admits, and it feels like a breath of fresh air.

Having given a verbal go-ahead, Katya expects Trixie to initiate the kiss, but she doesn’t. She just gazes at Katya, an awestruck and dazed expression on her face. It’s beautiful, and Katya doesn’t want to stop admiring her, but she thinks she might explode if they don’t kiss soon. She licks her lips, and it seems to pull Trixie from her reverie as her eyes flit back down. Katya trails her fingers up Trixie’s spine and feels her shiver in her arms and move even closer before she brings her hand back up to Katya’s face, making gentle touches until tangling her hand in Katya’s hair and leaning forward.

Trixie sighs against Katya’s lips the second they meet, undeniable proof that she’s been wanting this,  _ waiting _ for this as long as Katya has. Their kiss starts out slow and sweet, but with a noted level of desperation. Katya feels dizzy with the feeling of Trixie all over her—the taste of her on her lips, the feel of her body under Katya’s hands the roaming hands brushing against her neck, her side, her back as she’s pulled even closer to Trixie. They’ve only just started, and already Katya can’t get enough.

When they pull away, it’s because they’ve both started smiling too much to continue. Trixie’s face is flushed and beautiful, and Katya assumes hers must be in a similar shade of red. “Fuck, I like you so much,” Trixie says, shifting to bury her face between Katya’s and the pillow. She can feel her laugh more than she can hear it just before she says, “I’m so happy right now.” Her words are muffled, but the sentiment rings clear in Katya’s mind.

“Me too,” she says, pulling Trixie closer to her, even though there isn’t much space left to eliminate. She kisses her head, then her temple, and down to her earlobe. She never wants to stop kissing Trixie, so she keeps going, kissing along her jawline, the soft spot of her neck right at her pulse point, her collarbone—anywhere she can reach, all while running her hand up and down Trixie’s soft and curvaceous waist. Trixie reacts to each kiss in little touches where her hands grip Katya’s body, one hand tangled in her hair, the other firmly against her chest, where Katya wonders if she can feel her heartbeat.

Katya places another kiss against Trixie’s earlobe, hovering in place for a moment, her lips grazing the curve of Trixie’s ear before she decides to be bold. She nips at the spot she had just kissed before tugging softly. The action causes Trixie to make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper that Katya feels right between her legs. Her breath catches, and Trixie must notice because her hand closes around a fistful of Katya’s t-shirt.

Trixie’s breath is hot against Katya’s neck, which Katya notes has deepened and increased in speed, much like her own. When Trixie’s lips brush lightly against Katya’s pulse point, she realizes how much she misses them. She presses her own to Trixie’s earlobe one more time before teasing the area with her tongue. “Kiss me,” she whispers, and Trixie whines as she pulls back, immediately capturing Katya’s lips with her own once again.

This time the kiss is hot and heavy. In the ways it was timid before, this time it’s all desperation as they cling to each other, taste each other, explore each other. Nothing goes too far, and though Katya certainly wouldn’t mind, she wants to make sure that Trixie is comfortable. When they separate, out of breath but still wrapped up in each other’s arms, Katya takes the opportunity to ask, “Do you want to stop?”

Trixie’s eyes have been closed since they parted, but she opens them now, and Katya is taken aback by how dark they are, pupils blown with arousal. “No,” she says, almost like a plea for Katya to never stop, a promise she has no qualms in keeping.

She plants a soft kiss against Trixie’s lips before tugging her lower lip between her teeth, biting once before letting go and leaning back in for another as she slides her leg in between Trixie’s. “Is this okay?” she asks, and Trixie responds by shifting so that Katya’s leg is pressed right up against her. Katya’s eyes widen. She had completely forgotten the level of undress they’re in until the only thing separating her bare leg from Trixie’s cunt is her underwear. She’s so wet, and Katya groans so loud that she almost misses Trixie’s whimper. “Fuck.”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Trixie admits as she trails her hand up Katya’s leg to grip her ass. She leans in for another desperate kiss, like she can’t get enough of her, and it makes Katya’s head spin. She had always hoped this was the way Trixie felt about her, but having it play out like this was better than any fantasy her mind could have ever supplied her with. When Trixie pulls back to meet Katya’s eyes, they’re still dark with arousal but they’re also soft, and when she leans back in for another kiss, it’s long and deep and expresses emotions Katya can feel buzzing through her body. 

Katya shifts, tired of not feeling like she has free range of her hands to touch Trixie properly, first propping herself up, never breaking the kiss, and moving until she’s straddling Trixie. She has no problems with the change in position, especially when Katya’s hands freely roam Trixie’s body. She only breaks away to ask, “Is this okay?” her fingers hovering at the base of Trixie’s t-shirt.

The approval comes readily, and Katya relishes the touch of Trixies body under her hands—the soft rolls of her belly, the smooth expanse of skin up her waist, the tender curve of her breasts. When Katya’s thumbs graze over both of Trixie’s nipples simultaneously, she jerks her hips, moaning against Katya’s lips. “Take this off,” Katya murmurs against her lips, tugging up on the shirt. Together, they have it off in seconds, and Katya sits back, her hands resuming their position on Trixie’s chest as she watches her react to every touch.

Trixie is undeniably beautiful. Katya already knew this, but seeing her so intimately, bare faced and unclothed, laid out beneath Katya with her eyes closed and blonde hair splayed out on the pillow, writhing with longing as she’s touched—her beauty seems more tangible somehow, like something Katya could bottle and hold close, like something she could drink to make all her troubles fade away. Trixie is light herself, and Katya feels like she’s glowing in her presence.

She ducks her head, and starts leaving a trail of kisses from the corner of Trixie’s lips, down her jaw and her neck, over her collarbone, all the way to her chest. Trixie’s hands tangle in her hair as Katya takes one of Trixie’s hardened nipples into her mouth. Trixie whines at the contact, tugging on Katya’s hair. 

The sounds don’t stop as Katya continues her ministrations, both with her hands and her mouth. Trixie is  _ loud _ and responsive to everything Katya does—muttering her name, cursing under her breath, releasing deep moans and high pitched whines and everything in between. Katya could listen to Trixie make these sounds forever.

Katya kisses her way down Trixie’s stomach, touching her wherever she can reach. When she reaches the waistline of Trixie’s panties, Katya lifts her head to find Trixie watching her, her chest rising and falling, eyes dark with anticipation. “May I?” she asks. her fingers already dancing below the band. Trixie’s hips jerk. 

“But it’s  _ your _ birthday,” she protests, though it’s not very convincing. 

“I know,” Katya says, her other hand teasing as she slowly strokes the sensitive spots across Trixie’s thigh. “I want to do this,” she says as she presses a gentle kiss to the soft spot just inside Trixie’s hipbone. “Let me taste you.” She bites the same patch of skin, sucking just enough to leave a mark, and Trixie whimpers. “ _ Please, _ ” she says.

“Fuck, Katya,” Trixie says, her voice thick with arousal. She doesn’t protest anymore though, and soon her underwear is discarded across the room and she lies completely naked on Katya’s bed. Katya lies next to her, fingertips tracing lines up and down Trixie’s exposed body, in awe of how sexy she is and that she gets to see her like this.

Trixie pulls at Katya until she’s straddling her again, and Katya smiles as she leans in to kiss her. “You’re so beautiful,” Katya murmurs against Trixie’s lips before she makes her way back down Trixie’s body. Her smell is musky and erotic, and Katya can feel her own arousal growing at the scent. She wants nothing more than to bury her face in Trixie’s cunt and lap up every last bit of her sweet taste. When she tells Trixie this, Trixie releases a guttural moan that sets Katya’s nerve endings on fire. Her hips jerk up and Katya takes advantage, wrapping her arms around Trixie’s legs. She presses a few soft kisses to Trixie’s inner thighs, dizzy from her scent until she can’t take waiting any more.

Trixie’s taste is intoxicating. From the moment Katya runs the flat of her tongue against Trixie, she knows she’s a goner, and Trixie is too, from the sounds leaving her mouth, the way her hands grasp for Katya, the way her heels dig into her back. Katya dips her tongue inside Trixie, desperate for the taste of her to coat her tongue. “Katya, please,” Trixie whines, “touch me.”

Katya hums in approval, first finding one of Trixie’s hands with her own, interlacing their fingers as she laps up Trixie’s wetness before putting all of her attention on Trixie’s clit, lightly flicking it once with her tongue before pulling back, only a breath away as she lets go of Trixie’s hand and wraps her left arm around Trixie’s thigh again, moving her right to Trixie’s opening, pushing one finger inside before inserting another.

She watches Trixie grasp onto the sheets with one hand before the other tightens in Katya’s hair as she writhes on the bed. She loudly cries out when Katya closes her lips around Trixie’s clit, lightly sucking as she fucks Trixie with her fingers. She adds a third when she feels like Trixie can take it, and she’s rewarded with another euphony of moans from Trixie, growing more high pitched with every flick of Katya’s tongue.

When she feels Trixie tensing around her fingers, she sucks hard on her clit, and Trixie comes, her hips jerking as she does. Her thighs are pressed against Katya’s ears, but she can still make out the visceral noises Trixie makes, the way she moans Katya’s name as she climaxes.

Katya slows her motions, working Trixie through the aftershocks of her orgasm and kissing her inner thigh. She meets Trixie’s eyes as she pulls her fingers from Trixie and straight into her mouth, moaning as she sucks them clean. “You taste so good, baby,” she says as she crawls back up to lie next to Trixie, wrapping an arm around her side and pulling her warm body close. “Better than I could have imagined.”

“Did you?” Trixie asks breathlessly, “Imagine?”

Katya smirks. “I imagined all sorts of naughty things,” she tells her. “Right here in this bed, touching myself and thinking only of you.” 

“Fuck,” Trixie groans, and Katya feels her own clit throb. She’s soaked, and every shift she’s made since she moved back up the bed reminded her of the friction she’s desperate for. “I thought of you touching yourself,” Trixie admits as her hands slip under Katya’s t-shirt, her fingertips grazing Katya’s back. “I always wondered if you thought of me the same way I thought about you…always wondered what you look like when you come—what you sound like.”

Her words make Katya’s hips rock against her, desperate for Trixie’s touch. “Off,” Trixie says, tugging at Katya’s shirt and pulling it over her head, laughing when it gets tangled up on Katya’s arms. “God, you’re so sexy,” Trixie observes when she finally has Katya bare in front of her.

Trixie’s eyes are wide with wonder as she gently strokes her hand over Katya’s small breasts and the taut muscles of her stomach. She’s reverent in the way she takes Katya in, slow and deliberate with every caress, and it makes Katya twitch with desire. Desperate, she discards her boxers without being asked, and Trixie raises her eyebrows. “Someone’s eager,” she teases.

“Can you blame me?”

Her question makes Trixie blush, flattered, but she doesn’t falter in confidence as she pulls Katya’s body flush against hers and kisses her. Her hands do everything right as she explores Katya’s body, touching her in all the right places that make Katya hum appreciatively against Trixie’s lips. When her fingers stroke through the curly wisps teasing her entrance, Katya’s breath hitches, and she buries her face in Trixie’s neck. “Is this okay?” Trixie whispers.

Katya nods against her, clinging to Trixie as she finally touches her. 

Being touched by Trixie is like fireworks, and Katya willingly loses herself to Trixie, trusting that she’s going to take care of her. She’s both gentle and passionate—fucking Katya like her sole mission in life is to bring her to orgasm. And just as she was when she was the one getting fucked, Trixie is loud, validating her affections for Katya and how much she enjoys making her feel good. She talks a lot—making sure Katya likes what she’s doing, tells her she’s gorgeous and sexy and that she loves the way Katya feels against her.

Trixie shifts them without moving her hand from Katya’s clit so that Katya’s on her back. Trixie kisses her once before tending to her breasts—kissing, sucking, and biting, smiling against Katya whenever she gasps or jerks her hips.

Katya is so wound up from Trixie’s touches and sounds, from the lingering taste of Trixie on her tongue, and she knows she isn’t going to last much longer. When Trixie kisses her pulse point and nips the skin, Katya shudders. “Trixie,” she gasps, but she can’t make herself from any more words.

“That’s right, baby,” Trixie purrs against her ear. “I want to see you come for me.” 

She pulls back in time to watch as Katya tenses and jerks, coming as she mutters Trixie’s name like a prayer. Katya’s eyes are closed and she doesn’t open them until she feels both of Trixie’s arms around her as she leans in for a kiss. Trixie is smiling down at her, face flushed and eyes bright, and as always, Katya is stunned by her radiance. 

“Wow,” Katya says, more at Trixie than at everything that just happened, though it does ring true for both. Trixie grins and leans down to kiss her again, but this time they linger together. With the tension broken, kissing Trixie feels more relaxing than ever, and Katya wants to savor this moment and every moment after. She pouts when Trixie pulls back, but when the expression makes Trixie smile, Katya smiles too.

“Come on,” Trixie says. “We need to pee, and then we can cuddle.” Katya groans, knowing she’s right. The promise of getting to cuddle with Trixie and to be able to kiss her again has Katya rushing into the bathroom after Trixie. When she emerges, she notices all the candles that are still lit, and she makes sure to blow them all out. It feels so cliche, having them around, but it’s impossible not to smile when she considers all the efforts Trixie had gone to to make tonight special. She pours them some water and turns off the lights before heading back to bed.

The room is still dimly lit up by the string lights above Katya’s bed, so she can easily make out the shape of Trixie, burrowed under the blankets. She sets Trixie’s water down before walking to her side of the bed, finishing half her glass as she goes. Just before she can climb into bed, Trixie opens the covers up for her. Like Katya, she’s still naked, and she looks so relaxed that it makes Katya’s heart skip.

“I brought you some water,” Katya tells her as she slips under the covers. Trixie hums as she turns onto her back, propping herself up on one elbow and tugging Katya closer to her with her other hand, planted firmly at Katya’s waist.

Katya’s jaw goes slack as she watches Trixie close her eyes and tilt her head back, lips slightly parted. “I’m thirsty, baby,” she says in a whiny voice that makes Katya go hot all over. She reaches over Trixie for her water, not trying to avoid her arm brushing over Trixie’s chest as she does so. She carefully places the glass to Trixie’s lips and slowly tilts it back. Some of the water dribbles down Trixie’s chin, and Katya wants to lick it clean.

When Trixie pinches her side, she lowers the glass and leans in to kiss her before putting the water back on the nightstand. Katya thinks she might love her, but she doesn’t say so. “Thank you,” Trixie says when they pull apart and Katya discards the water glass back on the nightstand. Trixie curls into her, nuzzling into the crook of Katya’s neck as they both settle under the blankets again, and Katya holds her close, so as much of their skin is touching as possible.

They’re quiet for a while, just content to cuddle naked in each other’s arms, Katya leaving gentle strokes against Trixie’s back, while Trixie’s fingertips dance around her waist. Katya thinks this may just be the best birthday she’s ever had. Just then, Trixie looks up at her, propping herself up just enough to kiss Katya’s nose, and then each of her eyelids and her cheeks, and by the time she gets to Katya’s lips, they’re both smiling.

A few pecks becomes slow, languid kisses that make Katya dizzy. When Trixie pulls back, she looks breathless, and her lips are a little swollen from all the kissing, and Katya can’t help but brush through Trixie’s hair before tucking some of it back. “You’re so gorgeous, Trixie,” she tells her, revelling in the smile the compliment warrants her. “I really like you.”

“I really like you too,” Trixie says before cuddling back in close. “I hope you had a wonderful day today.”

“The best, thanks to you,” Katya says, and she means it. “Thank you.”

She feels Trixie smile against her just before she presses a gentle kiss to her collarbone. “Happy birthday, Katya.”

.

.

.

When Katya wakes up in the morning, Trixie is still asleep and curled up next to her. Her skin is warm and soft and having Trixie by her side like this makes Katya so happy she could dance, but she doesn’t want to disturb her. Instead, she kisses Trixie’s head, brushing her hair back before lazily stroking invisible lines up and down her back. Trixie hums in her sleep but shows no other signs of being awake.

Recalling the night before, Katya can’t help but smile. She knows she and Trixie need to have a real conversation about what this means for them, just to put it into words, but for now she’s content to hold her in her arms and admire how peaceful she looks. Katya can’t wait for her to wake up so that she can kiss her again.

It’s no more than ten minutes later when Trixie’s eyes flutter open. They find Katya’s almost immediately, and she grins, making a cute little noise in the back of her throat as she stretches in Katya’s arms. Her eyes are still full of sleep, but its adorable. “Hi,” she says, her giddy yet sleepy smile widening.

“Hi,” Katya says. She leans in to kiss Trixie like its the most natural thing in the world, and it makes her think about all those good morning texts. There is no comparison to waking up like this with Trixie by her side, looking beautiful as ever. “How did you sleep?”

“Amazing,” Trixie says. “I told you this blanket was magic.”

Katya fake groans and playfully moves like she’s trying to get away from Trixie and her jokes, but doesn’t actually move away, too captivated by Trixie’s presence to even consider getting out of bed. They laugh together until Katya finally admits, “You’re right about the blanket.” What she doesn’t say is that she never had any doubts that it was better then her former favorite blanket.

“You’re welcome,” Trixie says, pressing a chaste kiss to Katya’s lips before resting her head against her chest. The moment they’re in feels like a bubble, and even though Katya knows that going forward with Trixie will be amazing and even though she has no doubts that they’ll have many more moments like this, she doesn’t want to leave the bubble. “I could lie here like this forever,” Trixie mumbles, reflecting Katya’s thoughts.

“Me too,” Katya tells her, resuming her soft strokes up and down Trixie’s naked back, smiling when she hums against her. “We’ll have to get up sometime though,” she says, more for herself than for Trixie.

“What time are your parents coming?”

“We’re meeting for dinner at six, so we have lots of time,” she says, pressing a kiss to the crown of Trixie’s head.

“Okay,” Trixie simply says, nuzzling in like she’s about to go to sleep again. Katya only knows she stays awake by her soft touches against Katya’s body, along her arms and across her stomach. She loves being with Trixie like this. Lying here now, she doesn’t feel worried or nervous about anything—not about where they stand, not about what comes next, not about what anyone thinks. She feels peaceful and happy.

They lie together in silence for a while until Trixie’s stomach growls and they both fall into fits of laughter. There’s no use fighting the inevitable anymore, and Katya sits up in bed. “Come on, I’ll make you some breakfast,” she says before begrudgingly standing and leaving the comforts of her own bed. She brushes her teeth, washes her face, and throws on her giant t-shirt from the night before, smirking when she sees that Trixie is still curled up under the covers, smiling at her from across the room.

“Come here,” Trixie whines, and Katya shakes her head as she walks over, but she can’t rid the smile from her face. Trixie scoots all the way to the edge of the bed when Katya lowers herself to face Trixie. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and kisses the tip of her nose, and then Trixie’s lips when she can’t handle how adorable her smile is.

“If you want, you can shower while I make breakfast,” Katya offers. Trixie nods, but it takes a lot of persuading to finally pry her out from underneath the covers. When she’s finally standing next to Katya, their fingers interlaced, she pouts. “You’re ridiculous,” Katya tells her. “And really needy.”

Trixie snorts, “I haven’t heard you complaining.”

“Not  _ yet _ ,” Katya teases. “Now hurry up. I have a special surprise for you when you join me for breakfast.” She raises the hand she’s holding Trixie’s with, and kisses Trixie’s knuckles, one by one before lowering her arm and stepping back. Their hands only drop when there’s too much space between them to keep holding on.

“Okay,” Trixie says, blushing ever so slightly. It looks like she’s finally starting to wake up. “I won’t be long.”

While she’s in the shower, Katya gets to work on breakfast—oatmeal, made the  _ right _ way, with the steel cut oats she’d prepared the other night before, mixed with a variety of nuts, berries, chia seeds, and honey. And of course, her surprise for Trixie: chai tea lattes, which she’d looked up a recipe for online. She’s just added the finishing touches, some whipped cream and nutmeg sprinkled on top, when Trixie emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp and hanging loosely around another one of Katya’s t-shirts.

Katya meets her halfway to the kitchen, mug in her hand, and she holds it out to Trixie, who must know exactly what it is by the smell. “You made this? Have I told you how amazing you are today?” She smiles and leans in to kiss Katya’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Since Katya doesn’t have a kitchen table, they eat on the sofa. Trixie seems skeptical of the oatmeal at first— _ no one likes oatmeal, you know _ , she had said—but it only took one bite to convince her that the food gets a bad rep.

“It’s those stupid flavored oatmeal packets. They get you with the flavors, but the oats are cheap and come out like sludge. It’s better to take matters into your own hands,” she explains. Trixie listens intently, probably just to appease Katya and her passion for oatmeal. As far as conversations go, it isn’t very riveting, but Trixie is smiling at her like she hung the moon, and in this moment, that’s enough.

But eventually, breakfast is over and there’s no more food to act as a buffer between them, putting off the inevitable conversation they both know is coming. Ordinarily, Katya thinks this kind of circumstance would make her anxious, but this time, she can only attribute the thrumming in her heart to excitement. She takes the dishes to the kitchen, letting them soak until she can deal with them later, before returning to the couch where Trixie waits for her, eyes full of anticipation.

Katya sits close, taking Trixie’s hands in hers the moment she’s within reach. Like everything else with Trixie, it feels easy and natural, and when her eyes meet Trixie’s the smiles they share follow suit. 

“Trixie,” she starts, holding her gaze and lightly brushing her thumbs over Trixie’s fingers. “I need you to know that I really like you. And I really like being close to you. I like kissing you. I like making you smile and making you laugh.” She stops with a sigh. “This is sounding so much more corny than I thought it would, I just wanted to start so you wouldn’t be nervous.” Katya ducks her head but looks back up when Trixie laughs.

“I think you’re the one who’s nervous,” she says. Katya wants to argue, but she thinks Trixie is probably right. Just because she’s more excited than anything else, doesn’t mean she isn’t still nervous. “Katya, I’ve wanted you ever since you asked me to be your fake girlfriend.”

The statement causes Katya to explode with an uncharacteristic giddy laughter. She almost can’t believe it, even though she knows and trusts that Trixie is being completely honest with her. Trixie squeals at Katya’s reaction resting her head against her shoulder before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling back. Katya’s heart is racing as she says, “It’s about time we changed that, don’t you think? If that’s something you want.”

She’s barely gotten the sentence out when Trixie starts to answer, “Yes.” Her smile is bright, and both that and her answer warms Katya’s chest. “I really want that.” She leans in, one of her hands lightly pressed to Katya’s neck as they kiss. It’s different than the passion and desperation of last night and different from the playful pecks from this morning. This time the kiss is tender and full of promise, and it reminds Katya of every time she and Trixie have worked together perfectly, said the right things and made the right jokes, only this time it means so much more.

Katya doesn’t want to pull back so she holds Trixie closer, smiling into the kiss and only parting when Trixie does. She laughs. “Do you think your parents will notice anything has changed?” 

This is something Katya hadn’t considered, but the thought makes Katya laugh, too. “Only one way to find out,” she says, pulling Trixie in for one more kiss. She can’t get enough.

.

.

.

Eventually, Trixie has to go home to get ready for dinner with Katya’s parents, and while she’s gone, the apartment feels suddenly empty and Katya is antsy to be near Trixie again. It’s so ridiculous of her that all she can think is what Violet would say if she were here, and speaking of which, she needs to call them.

As usual, she calls Fame’s instead of Violet’s number, knowing that it doesn’t matter either way because they’ll both be on the end of the line anyway. It’s just that this way annoys Violet the most.

“Why don’t you ever call my phone?” she whines when she answers, and with a laugh, Katya tells her why. She can hear the scowl through the phone. “I’ll put you on speaker, hold on.” When she does, Fame is already singing  _ Happy Birthday _ , though Violet doesn’t join in until the last line.

“Thank you,” Katya tells them through her smile. At this rate she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop smiling. “I’m sorry you two have to miss dinner tonight. How’s your vacation?”

“Amazing,” Violet says before immediately changing the subject. “Now cut the shit, Katya. I can tell you’re more smiley than usual and I want details.”

Katya rolls her eyes. “Wow, you’re so kind, asking nicely like that,” she says, but the smiling is a detriment to her sarcasm, which Violet calls her out on as well. There’s no way to win this. “You were right,” Katya says, wishing she could see Violet’s reaction. She can hear her muttering and unlocking her phone.

“Oh my god, can you please repeat that? I need to record this moment so I can relive it whenever I need validation,” Violet says, and Katya snorts. 

“Fine. Violet, you were right. I was being a dumbass about Trixie. And to be honest, I still kind of am because I can’t stop smiling and thinking about kissing her. It’s getting out of hand.”

“To clarify,” Fame starts, “does this mean you  _ did _ or  _ did not _ kiss her yet?”

Katya laughs. “I  _ did _ kiss her. A lot. And I fake broke up with her in order to date her for real. We’re official.” On the other end, Fame and Violet are cheering like there’s no tomorrow, exchanging high fives and handling bets.  _ You owe me five dollars _ , Fame tells Violet, who whines about technicalities that even Katya admits sound a little flimsy. Ultimately, they’re happy for her and proud of her, and they remind her that this means Katya no longer has any excuses for not going on a double date with them.

That’ll sure be something, Katya thinks, but she can’t deny that she’s looking forward to making plans when they get back home. They’ll probably embarrass the living shit out of her, but Trixie will love them and Katya can’t wait.

.

.

.

When Katya goes to Trixie’s apartment to pick her up, she’s greeted with an enthusiastic squeal and a hug as Trixie all but flies into her arms. “Are you ready?” Katya asks as Trixie pulls back just slightly. 

She looks beautiful, wearing a simple yellow dress that looks like it was made just for her. Her hair is half down, and as always, her makeup is flawless. Katya wants to kiss her so she does, giddy with the fact that she  _ can _ and with the way Trixie smiles into the kiss. 

“Let’s go,” Trixie tells her, taking Katya by the hand as she steps into the hallway to lock the door.

They walk to the restaurant in silence, but the smiles they keep sending each other’s way speak for themselves. Katya is sure they must look so corny, grinning at each other, swinging their joined hands between them, but she’s so happy, she can’t be bothered to care.

With Trixie’s influence, they arrive early, before Katya’s parents have even gotten a table, and they’re both rushing to hug Katya and tell her happy birthday the minute she and Trixie are through the door. Trixie is next in the hug swarm, and as Katya watches Trixie interact with her parents, she’s struck by how different she felt the last time they were all here together. On edge, nervous, unsure about how this  _ lie _ would go over.

But now, all she can do is smile, excited and grateful at the turns of events that led them here—led her and Trixie together, this time for real. The weight of the secret they once had is lifted and the situation feels light and clear.

When they’re seated, her parents don’t mention the drink menu on the table or move it away from Katya. She wouldn’t have even noticed it had it not been propped up and in the way of her getting a clear view of her parents across the table. She picks it up and hands it to Trixie. “Did you want to get something?”

“I don’t know,” she says as she takes it, flipping through it. “Maybe not tonight.” Katya nods. “But maybe we can get something special. Shirley Temples or something?” 

Her suggestion makes Katya smile. “Okay, sure. Let’s do that,” she says as she takes Trixie’s hand under the table. 

When she looks back up, her parents are watching them with soft grins, and Katya wonders if they can tell that something is different. “You two look so happy,” her mom tells them with both hands against her heart like she just can’t handle how sweet they are. “And you know, you don’t have to be embarrassed around us. You’re allowed to kiss each other.” 

Normally, Katya might think that kissing  _ her girlfriend _ in front of her parents really would be embarrassing, but ever since they got here, Katya has been itching to press her lips against Trixie’s, or just be as close to her as she can be, so she promptly lean in, meeting Trixie halfway. The kiss is nothing like the ones they shared last night, and still different from some they shared this morning. This one is short and sweet—just one kiss but more than a peck. It’s enough to make Katya’s heart race, and she’s so content that when she pulls away, she laughs.

After their server takes their drink orders, Katya’s mom reaches a hand across the table and Katya takes it with her free hand. “Katya, we just want you to know how proud we are of how far you’ve come, and we’re overjoyed to see how well you’re doing—how happy you are.”

It’s such a simple statement, but Katya can see the depth of how true it is for both her parents in their eyes, and she hopes her thank you is sufficient enough. Out of everyone, her parents were the most concerned, but also the most in the dark when everything was at its worst. They weren’t there to see the downfall, but instead were faced with the aftermath, seeing Katya in a clear need of help, even though she couldn’t yet see what they saw. She lashed out at them, refused their attempts to help her, until finally, she saw the truth for herself. As far as making amends, her parents were the ones she felt like she had so much to make up for, but looking at them now, eyes full of trust and unconditional love, she thinks maybe she’s done it.

“Thank you,” she tells them, hoping that they can see how much she means it like she can see with them. Their smiles widen, and Katya’s mom squeezes her hand. Trixie leans over to kiss her cheek, and Katya knocks their shoulders together. “You too, of course,” she tells her.

She’s surprised when her parents thank Trixie too, for being such a stronghold to Katya—someone who has been what she needed, and for the first time, Katya thinks that they must have put an immense amount of trust in Trixie, as well as her other friends—anyone who was around Katya as she recovered when they couldn’t be.

The moment is starting to feel too heavy, so when their drinks are delivered, Katya feels like she can finally relax again. Her father gives a toast in honor of Katya’s birthday, her sobriety, and her relationship with Trixie, making ridiculous jokes as he does to keep it light. As they knock their glasses together, Trixie winks at Katya, who has to fight off a laugh at just how perfect toasting to  _ them _ is, considering the circumstances. Katya hopes that she and Trixie will be together for long enough that their  _ fake relationship _ narrative becomes a funny story told at family gatherings, but she doesn’t give too much stock to the possibility. Although, she isn’t worried.

Katya smiles at Trixie sitting next to her, beaming as her parents talk about some ridiculous thing that happened to them last week. She feels more grounded than she ever has before, but at the same time she feels lifted up, alive with possibility and hope for the future, basking in Trixie’s light—and in her own.

She finally found it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic means so much to me, I don’t even know if i can put it into words. basically since i started writing this, i was starting my own recovery from alcohol addiction, and this fic was a constant for me as i quit, through all the earliest stages and the big moments, the slip ups and the milestones, and now i can proudly say that i’m one month sober as of today!! i know one month is tiny in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a huge step and i’m proud of myself for that. remember that recovery from alcohol addiction (and any addiction) is different for everyone, and different things work for different people. i hope that if anyone is going through recovery or has already or is considering getting help or quitting on their own (as in, no rehab or AA, etc), i want you to know that i’m proud of you and that you can do it. 
> 
> in terms of this fic, i wanted to represent recovery from alcohol addiction in the way i wish it fit into the real world. imo the worst part about recovery is other people, and the way people react and the things people say. it isn’t necessarily uncaring, but the best way i can explain it is that it reminds me of running into a wall. the stigmas around alcohol addiction and recovery are unhealthy and quite honestly ridiculous. i find a lot of the way society talks about the subject as a whole discouraging. that being said, i wanted to represent katya’s journey the way i saw my own, and the way i wanted mine to be seen by other people, without all the bullshit society planted into the “alcoholic dialogue.” but of course, like i said, all addiction and all recovery is different for everyone, and sobriety isn’t a straight line. katya’s journey here is really optimistic, as i intended. it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. but it also isn’t like hitting a wall, or like being held back and burdened by societal standards or stigmas.
> 
> there’s this book that i read twice through during the first steps of my recovery, it’s called “quit like a woman: the radical decision to not drink in a culture obsessed with alcohol” by holly whittaker, and it was astronomically helpful to me, and i recommend it for anyone who is trying to quit or considering quitting, or literally just anyone, especially minorities, not just women, it’s a book for everybody imo, and it’s a great resource. also i’m on tumblr @chxrrybombtrix if anyone needs someone to talk to about this or about anything else
> 
> love you guys, and thanks for reading <3


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